Here I am here waiting after peeing in a cup. It’s been a rough morning, taking the trains, using my navi system to find, but not find the bank, getting lost so that I walk six extra blocks with this growing babe in my tummy. It’s pressure. It’s getting heavy.
Then, after finally arriving late, I couldn’t fill out my forms. I never remember which Kanji (Chinese characters) refers to my birthdate and which asks for today’s date. I get emotional bringing in another life when I still flounder. It’s pretty nuts. I remember those fears before I ever became pregnant.
And yet, G-d becomes more real in these moments. You have come through in dazzling ways that turned over what might have been, I think.
I am the pregnant woman crying on the banquet. Tears just come as I finally sit. It’s a chance to reflect and change my thoughts.
G-d is the One who gives me comfort and stillness, then chance–a million glimmery chances to rock myself with the comfort of enduring, surviving goodness.
I hear the music.
Every time I come, there is every song I need to hear. “Oh, I believe in yesterday”, because G-d’s peace was there, too. Two months ago, when I came to verify my pregnancy, it was Judy Collins–that song I sang to my beautiful Grandpa. Every other visit, it’s Izzy’s rays of ukelele love, Somewhere Over the Rainbow coming through. This is the song we blew bubbles to at our wedding sendoff. There’s also the time I heard “Hey, Jude” which became the name of our son. I had just written the name that morning and then, boom: Jude was emanating from speakers.
I sit four pregnant women from the left and five from the right, plus all of them in front. We are all here, trusting in Your goodness to some extent. In present form, You support the living. You make room for babies. You raise them up from seed and open up our lungs to take in fragrance, to dive to Asiatic depths and zoom up in flight. It is startling.
I relax, supported.
I blew up pink balloons this morning with these same lungs I breathe more evenly with now, tears no longer falling down. If they do, they’re the happy kind.
I spurted air from those pink balloons at my son before tying knots. This is the love a mother, too, needs to feel. I breathe and pfffhhhhhewwww at his cheek and turn his soft neck into giggles.
We explode. We come to life in the place of love and all they say about trust. We hope in your unfailing kindness.
We grow, we bend, we birth.