and i laughed.
because that's not possible, pregnant or not. understand me this, i am filled with such feelings of elation that i cannot fully put into words, writer or not.
but there's other things too. there's life that keeps happening outside my sheltered world of expecting motherhood. there's frustration and hurts that well up, and hormones that fight me to explode free from fingertips and lips.
this is complicated, this thing of morning sickness that turns to ravenous hunger and late night tossing with vivid dreams that are almost impossible to rationalize to reality. and then there are the tears that well over at insurance commercials and late-night episodes of Grey's Anatomy.
and i cannot be happy always.
no one can.
but i find the joy in the quiet moments when i press earbuds to my stomach to teach this little one the best of music, or when i pour words from favoured pages into little forming ears. and there is courage in knowing that i will be okay, because i am not alone.
:: i never have been ::
not of happy, but of joy.
not of fearless, but of brave.
there's an expression i've heard: barefoot and pregnant. and that is me, overwhelmed in the sacred to the point of no shoes, curling safe at the base of the cross.