I was pregnant once. And then it went away, because it wasn't really there. I lost it in an afternoon. In a moment of across the great beyond knowledge I confessed to a friend, I'm holding onto this thing with everything I've got. I knew I guess, because a few hours later it began. I stood up from my desk and took myself home.
In the car I heard a song on the radio. This is all I remember. I remember that it was loud and I wanted to fill my ears up with it because I was losing something and I knew it.
One song turned into another, Personal Jesus performed by Mr. Johnny Cash, which only confirms for me that Johnny and God have close personal ties. This song served to remind me that I'm only the next in a long line of humans to have it given and taken away from.
Accepting the loss of that pregnancy was a strange kind of bliss for me. I'm holding onto this thing with everything I've got. I really was. And to just surrender was a relief. Of course, I stumbled with disbelief and hope, but by evening I knew it was going away and I just exhaled the rest of the way with it.
Now, I am next in the line to be given something. I am pregnant with my second child once again. I have been more afraid this time. I hesitated to tell anyone. Sometimes I am so afraid of the open wild possibilities of our lives. When I close my eyes I see the baby inside me floating in space. I have not wrapped my heart around this thing yet. But I will.