Are you in there? Are you here with me now? I have this intense feeling, this knowledge out of nowhere that you are here with me, but I don't trust it. This has happened to me twice before, this hyper-awareness of my uterus, this strong sense of something happening down there, of pregnancy.
Both times, I bled before I could know for sure if there was someone inside at all. If I close my eyes, and focus all my attention on my uterus, I can feel this light, tingling, happy sensation. It's as if something inside me is singing. My friend told me to trust my body, and to trust my instincts. That if my body is telling me I am pregnant then I should listen.
But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I am just having an extreme bout of overactive imagination, brought on by the years of wishing, and hoping, and praying, and paying too much attention to every slight twinge I feel, every symptom that could possibly mean something. I'm also afraid that if you are there, if there was something there the two times before, that you will leave. I am afraid that there is something wrong with me, or something just slightly off with you, and that you will not be able to stay.
I am afraid that you will not grow properly, be nourished and loved in my womb for 9 months, be born into my waiting hands here at home. I am afraid that if I bleed next week I will not be able to return to the lovely numbness I have been enjoying for the last few months. It was calm that I felt, and the acceptance that I had of never being a mother. It wasn't an ideal state of mind, and it worried your father quite a bit, but it was better, so much better than the despair I had been living with for too long.
The ready tears and anger had all but vanished, and I could get through my day to day life without breaking down at the sight of a small child in the grocery store, or yet another friend becoming pregnant and radiating everything I felt I could never have. But now I've had this. This burst of hope and anticipation. I'm terrified. I'm going to feel like such an idiot when my period starts, and I've had all this drama over nothing.
All this build up, and worry, and all the prayers, and hopes, and the friends that I told, and this letter I am writing now. All for nothing. Nothing but emptiness. Again. And again. And again. God help me, I can't keep doing this, how do people survive the years and years of it? How do I face a life with this empty house?
This house, silent but for the small sounds of my husband and I filling the hours with the internet and video games? How? What is the purpose of a childless life?
My tiny little one, if you are in there, please know that I love you. I have spent much time imagining how our life as a family will be, how much your daddy and I will love having you here and being your parents. If you are in there, please know that you were conceived in love. So much love. If you are in there, please stay with me. I have loved you and wanted you for so long, and I will do everything I can to keep you healthy and safe while you grow.
Something inside me is singing. Is it you? A small soul within rapidly dividing cells. Or is it nothing but a dream that has overstepped its bounds? I won't know for another week. I will spend this week as calmly as I can, and I will enjoy this feeling while it lasts, because who knows. This could be the beginning of something wonderful. This could be another bump in the road on our way to starting our family. This could be all I will ever get to know of pregnancy. Something inside me is singing.
Please God, please. Let this be it.
|Photo © Stacie Robinson|