For those of you who will wonder, I
am not pregnant. But have been, for some time, compelled to write this from a
space of someone who is.
THE SACRIFICE SEASON...by Janene Kraft
Gasp. And then the revelation that this miracle does not fit within my plan. I gulp down the overarching sensation of wonder and refuse myself to feel something. It is fast thinking that will serve me more than useless tears, tears either of regret or split-second bonding to a being not yet known and yet evidenced by what there lies thrown into the trash, buried under q-tips and dirty tissue.
Curious, even at myself, how quickly the shift to mindless activity and yet, there is an undeniable difference in every little thing.
Even as a drink my coffee, cells are dividing. I shuffle papers and ready myself for the purpose of my day unaware and yet keenly connected to life commandeering my body as my mind struggles to disconnect. I am strong. I can will the distancing. But inside, there is awareness that the part of me I make unavailable to this mystery guest, will also die to those I hold most dear. These will sense the shift and wonder what THEY have done to push me away.
At work, I outperform even my own expectation of myself, appearing to colleagues and friends as if in a race, running with competition not at my heel but inside, compelling me to run faster and away from thought, from consequence, from choice, from YOU my competitor for the time, for the space, for the life I have carved out for myself.
There is decision to be made, and soon. As I go about my day you are forming spinal cord and brain. You do not need my belief to become. You only need my body. I wonder, is it possible for you to occupy my belly without taking over my heart?
Loving you to life would be severe inconvenience. Never mind what will happen to you after, it is my “now” that is too limited a container to fit you in. And yet I contain you. For me, there is no argument about whether or not you exist. My rational, thoughtful, educated mind embraces that you are “fact.” But the relevant, strategic, plan-building me cannot reconcile that I did not plan for you.
So now I enter this sacrifice season. Sacrifice me, for a time. Or sacrifice you in the space of forever. What irony is this that the intention of your life is evidenced in your being and yet the power is mine to “allow” you to become.
To set aside your life will take nothing short of denying the life-lover that I am. Along with you, a part of me will die. In the end, those around me will realize the consequence without ever knowing why. But I will live the loss. It will be my constant companion.
If in some future day I am to love and live fully I must do it now in the hardest moment. Knowing you exist is not knowledge that can be retracted. And to know is to never go backward. Loving you may not, ultimately, take “Mommy” form but in the end, loving you into being is the closest I will get to being God.
THE SACRIFICE SEASON...by Janene Kraft
Gasp. And then the revelation that this miracle does not fit within my plan. I gulp down the overarching sensation of wonder and refuse myself to feel something. It is fast thinking that will serve me more than useless tears, tears either of regret or split-second bonding to a being not yet known and yet evidenced by what there lies thrown into the trash, buried under q-tips and dirty tissue.
Curious, even at myself, how quickly the shift to mindless activity and yet, there is an undeniable difference in every little thing.
Even as a drink my coffee, cells are dividing. I shuffle papers and ready myself for the purpose of my day unaware and yet keenly connected to life commandeering my body as my mind struggles to disconnect. I am strong. I can will the distancing. But inside, there is awareness that the part of me I make unavailable to this mystery guest, will also die to those I hold most dear. These will sense the shift and wonder what THEY have done to push me away.
At work, I outperform even my own expectation of myself, appearing to colleagues and friends as if in a race, running with competition not at my heel but inside, compelling me to run faster and away from thought, from consequence, from choice, from YOU my competitor for the time, for the space, for the life I have carved out for myself.
There is decision to be made, and soon. As I go about my day you are forming spinal cord and brain. You do not need my belief to become. You only need my body. I wonder, is it possible for you to occupy my belly without taking over my heart?
Loving you to life would be severe inconvenience. Never mind what will happen to you after, it is my “now” that is too limited a container to fit you in. And yet I contain you. For me, there is no argument about whether or not you exist. My rational, thoughtful, educated mind embraces that you are “fact.” But the relevant, strategic, plan-building me cannot reconcile that I did not plan for you.
So now I enter this sacrifice season. Sacrifice me, for a time. Or sacrifice you in the space of forever. What irony is this that the intention of your life is evidenced in your being and yet the power is mine to “allow” you to become.
To set aside your life will take nothing short of denying the life-lover that I am. Along with you, a part of me will die. In the end, those around me will realize the consequence without ever knowing why. But I will live the loss. It will be my constant companion.
If in some future day I am to love and live fully I must do it now in the hardest moment. Knowing you exist is not knowledge that can be retracted. And to know is to never go backward. Loving you may not, ultimately, take “Mommy” form but in the end, loving you into being is the closest I will get to being God.
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