I am literally sitting here, staring at a blank page, with nothing to write.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I have words bubbling up in my soul, but I cannot seem to sew them into sentences. They are just a thread, waiting to be weaved. And I cannot.
I cannot sum up the courage. I cannot enter into the place. I cannot go deep…
I linger a while longer. Grief, perhaps? Fear? Sorrow? Sadness? Yes, yes, yes. YES.
I have cleaned out cabinets and shopped online in hopes that the words may come. Or maybe that they be buried deeper so that I cannot even catch a glimpse of them.
Fear. Fear. Fear. Anxiety on the rise. So many things to think about, worry about, wonder about. What if? Why? What now? What then? How? All the things to fear. To go here, do that, take this. Decisons, the weight of parenting. Sunscreen or the sun? Tap water or filtered? Vitamins? Caffeine? Crossing the street? Hot dogs and fires and dogs we don’t know. Seat belts and helmets and mouth guards. Organic, clean eating. Ice cream because we only live once. Red food dye, Easter eggs hunts. Strangers, public restrooms, floods. Am I listening enough? Asking the right questions? Do they know they are loved?
Do I worry too much? Does everyone feel this way?
Ohmyword. Zone out. Let it rest. No, TRUST. Trust in what, exactly? Trust in Who, actually.
I know the verses. I know the promises. I know the right answers. But it still creeps in, threatens to hold onto my joy. Asks for ransom. My soul.
What if we lose this baby, too? Isn’t that the cycle? Get pregnant, miscarry. Get pregnant, worry. Get pregnant, pray hard and hope. Shaky hope. Shaky words. When should we tell people? One day at a time…
The labs come back good and yet I still cannot…
Because I’ve had this before, you know. Good labs. Good reports. Heart beats and ultrasounds and good things turn to bad. When can I get excited, exactly? When will I allow myself? This time will be different. I’m resting and waiting and trying so hard no to stress actually leads me to stress more. Oh my goodness.
Am I alone in this? You feel it, too, right? I mean the weight of this. Pregnancy after loss and the unending questions. Pregnancy after loss and the hesitant hope. Pregnancy after loss and the…the…sweet, sweet sound of the heartbeat. The seconds that feel like years in between. The waiting. The longing. The glorious feeling of kicks and jabs and hiccups. The gift of life. Taking root, growing strong, holding on to hope and a mama’s heart.
Little one, you are so so dearly loved. Little one, I pray. I pray for your fingers and toes, your eyes, your mind, your heart and your soul. Little one, you are a gift. A light. A blessing. Little one, I will fight for you and with you to treasure all the days we have. To mark the moments of together. To love. Love you well.
Photo credit: Jeff Nardoni