the sunset of pregnancy [part 1]
(My final thoughts and ponderings leading up to the end of my first pregnancy. Part 2 will follow… if it’s not replaced by a birth story!)
I resonate with these words I’m about to quote. They describe a reality I’ve experienced, but had never expressed.
Do they make pregnancy seem ethereal and romantic? A little. Pregnancy is firmly rooted in the prosaic. In backaches and throwing up. In swelling and doctor’s appointments. In weight gain and nursery planning. In fleece blankets and tiny socks. In carseats and cribs.
But just like in the rest of life, the prosaic is merely a veil for the miraculous. Yes, I just interrupted the writing of this post to go to the bathroom for the 134th time today. Yet there is a new life mysteriously united with mine. Just the way we all began. How can anyone say there is no mystery or miracle in life? How can anyone be a nihilist? The beginning of human life is a fragile, powerful creation.
There is something lonely about pregnancy that can not be assuaged. I felt this from the very beginning and sort of expected it to go away with time. It has not and possibly will not.
It’s as if a pregnant woman enters this new realm of spiritual mystery, a water that must be traveled alone. For some reason I picture the underground lake from the Phantom of The Opera.
It is traveled alone because there is no other way. I don’t think our human minds or hearts can hold what it means to give birth to a life. We cannot fathom such a miracle, and the mother who carries the child cannot speak of the depth she experiences, simply because she does not have the words.
In the middle of the night, wide awake, I stare at the pack and play in our room where the new baby will sleep very soon. I walk over to it and push the button that turns on its nightlight. I touch the fabric where we will soon lay our son or daughter. And I hear the hum. The constant hum that Debra writes about. She says,
“One indisputable truth about pregnancy is that once the baby is in there, it must come out somehow. The end is near, the end is real. The only way out is through.”
I am afraid of the birth itself, I would be a fool not to be. But more than that, I tremble at the enormity of experiencing life on this level. Experiencing the Creator on this level. How is it that He gives us such a taste of something so far beyond our current capacity? I have not yet seen this child’s face, and already I am overwhelmed with awe.
-Alli Rogers, Afraid
Mmm…good stuff. Any birth, regardless of how it comes about (naturally, induced, unmedicated, epidural, c-section, etc…) is an absolute incredible experience. You hurt. You groan. You close your eyes. But the second that baby is born, and I do mean the second, you are literally enthralled. Your whole being was created for such a purpose, and when you fulfill that purpose (of giving birth) it is just amazing. To say that you are awakened to a whole new intimacy with the Father is so true, I think. As much as we find ourselves in total love with that tiny helpless newborn human being, we are so intently reminded that He, the Maker, loves us so much more than even that.
Can’t wait to read your birth story. Praying peace upon you, dear sister. {P.S. This does nothing to subdue my currently blazing baby fever…;)}
It is a true post. I thin k it is especially so if you have never gone through it before but even if you have… it is amazing! For me, when I looked at my firstborn (who was laid in my lap) and she looked at me, there was such awe that surged through me! ~ well… I can’t put it into words…But again when I had my third ~ though he didn’t look me in the eyes like that ~ there was something so special. It seems that what you posted does really put it into words very well!
Beautiful quote! I like that.