A tender time

I am officially having a hard time.

My midwife optimistically predicted in May that my frequent contractions might pass. They have not. They usually tighten my belly whenever I sit or stand upright. Getting out to the mailbox has become a tremendous achievement, which I am able to accomplish only on good days. My due date is more than three months away.

There is so much to be thankful for during this time. First of all, this is not causing us serious financial trouble. I keep thinking that if I were a single, working mother, I might be choosing between caring for this pregnancy and keeping my family housed. Second, we have been receiving an enormous amount of help from a large range of people, which makes me so grateful. Today I wrote 11 thank-you notes! Third, the baby is moving around, growing, and generally acting though he is not planning to come out into the world anytime soon.

Still, I feel something within myself growing fragile. On Sunday, I hovered on the verge of tears all day and ended up coaxing myself along with treats. "Wouldn't you like to read a novel?" I said with false confidence. "You haven't been able to do that in ages! You love novels." Later, with two novels completed, I had to find a new treat. "Sorbet!" I exclaimed to myself with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Mom is coming over, and I bet she could buy some sorbet on her way down!" The treats seemed to work, and aside from a few minor breakdowns, I got through the day.

During this tender time, I am very aware of the fields in the trees outside my windows. I check in with them regularly, calling to the fields, "Are you still there?" When I call them, I can feel them there, and they comfort me. Through the window, I see the leaves swaying against the sky, and I ask, "Are you still singing?" Even without smelling the scent of the outside world or feeling the gentle changes in the air, I can still hear the trees singing. I hear they are in the middle of a song that began before I gave them my attention, and that will continue long after my mind wanders from them.

I am also aware of how vital it is that we share the Light and that has been given to us. On my most difficult days, which could be so much worse, I pounce on beauty with the fervor of a big kitten practicing its hunting skills. Almost as much as I need water, I need beautiful acts and prayers and stories. We all have those within us, and we sometimes keep them to ourselves without ever realizing the power they could have if they were released.