Always Winter, Never Christmas
It is bleak and cold outside, the hours of light short and weak. All this seems a good match for my current state of mind. I'm just a few days past due, and yet I suddenly feel as if the pregnancy has been going on forever.
Funny—I have this faint memory of a few weeks ago, back when I was euphoric, and I was telling people that every day felt like Christmas Eve because of the anticipation. And yet every morning that Natalie didn't come I was still happy because I had a little bit more time to work and relax. That was a great feeling. Now, in my own body, I feel as if I'm lugging the weight of the world around. I've been having contractions for days, but they don't seem to be doing much, except for wearing me out. I guess I've entered the "Always Winter, Never Christmas" phase of the pregnancy.
It amazes me how different pregnancy looks from the outside—I remember seeing very pregnant women and how clear it was that they were soon to deliver. And yet, I could never have imagined the chasm of doubt and fear that they could be experiencing. Or how impossible it could feel.
Last Advent, when our friend Jarrod was dying of cancer, he quoted Paul Westerberg in his online journal, who wrote, "Miracles always happen when they have to." Jarrod wrote about how Advent is full of expectations—and demands. The darkening days only seem to add to the intensity of our jumbled felt and real needs. "As it builds up, we realize that we will not be satisfied in a waiting room of sorts," Jarrod wrote, "So we get up and actively long, yearn and crave, pretending that we we're actually doing something to bring the miracle about."
Like Jarrod, I can't will my miracle into existence. I feel the tug of her, though, as she struggles to find her way out. I try to be patient, because I know she has never done this before and it is dark and cramped in there. And I try to remember, as Jarrod did, that miracles happen when they have to.
Image provided by freefoto.com.
Posted by Jenny at 12:31:00 AM