I don’t nonchalantly want to get pregnant. I really really want to get pregnant. Every part of who I am wants to have a little baby. I want to be pregnant, I want to feel that my body is round and huge and gorgeous with baby. I want to give birth. I want to be amazing mother earth, full of power and love, birthing my child. I want to have a teeny tiny baby on my skin, curdled up on my chest, right over my heart. I want days that morph into nights where time doesn’t mean more than naps and light pouring in and milk stained sheets.
I want it all.
I really, from the deepest part of my soul, want the chance to tell my kids that we are having a baby! I want to give them affirmation of life, reality of miracles and share the incredible joy of a new baby in our family.
I realize that to do all this, I need to be open.
Because as we well know, when you welcome new life, you open yourself to the possibility of death as well.
This is the tricky part.
Jumping in again is not easy. It is not easy to be so painfully aware that life and death are a continuum, and that the life we cradle so lovingly can end and, just like that, life becomes death. We now know this. It is scary and it requires so much bravery to open ourselves to life while being so acutely aware that we are also opening ourselves to the possibility of death.
It all becomes so scary.
There is a part of me that is not sure I could handle another pregnancy that ends too soon, another baby to hold inside untill death. I am not sure I could handle that again.
But the truth is, the need and desire for a new little baby is even bigger. My mama heart wants joy even more than it fears pain.
So I jump.
I am open to life and what it brings.
Trusting, and loving, bravely open.