This morning I’m giving myself some quiet time in bed. Joe’s left for work, and I have a bunch of things to accomplish before the weekend begins. Instead of getting up right away and feeling the intensifying gravity that my 32-week pregnancy has been bringing to my back, my hips, my legs…. I’ve just been sitting here for a little while, not answering the phone, and soaking up some peaceful bird chirps and wind chimes and light breezes coming through the window.
Then, out of the calm, Little Peanut (the dude in my belly) gets hiccups.
My first instinct? To enact my “surefire hiccup cure” – on myself – as if I’m the one with hiccups. It goes like this: take a deeeeeeeeep breath, hold it in, and then swallow three times HARD, without letting any air come in or out of your nose or mouth.
Surprise! It doesn’t work. I realize that this little guy is probably guzzling a little too much amniotic fluid and I won’t be able to teach him the cure for at least another two years (just a guess). My mind wanders to all of the things that I can’t wait to teach this kid….the names of the trees in the yard, the lyrics to some of the best songs on the planet, how to swim… the list just unfolds and never stops.
It’s so fascinating being at this stage. His squirmy movements feel like a swimming alien, his size is so substantial that I really feel like I’m carrying someone around, like he’s running out of room in there, and I feel strangely connected – not just physically – but now in a sort of telepathic kind of way. Like I can send him my thoughts. Like every thought I have becomes a part of him. It’s enough to make me a little obsessed – and a LOT careful – about the things I’m allowing myself to focus on and the people I surround myself with.
Yesterday, just before my 40 minute drive home from an enjoyable dinner with a bunch of Maui’s women bloggers (more on that soon!), I remembered that a few years ago, when I was in the beginning of a pregnancy that ended in miscarriage, I had downloaded an audiobook about pregnancy called “Magical Beginnings”, by Deepak Chopra, M.D.. I had barely listened to the first chapter by the time we lost the baby, and I hadn’t looked back since. Last night I had the urge to play it in the car, so I found the link on my iPhone and hit “play”. I am so glad I did.
The kinds of thoughts I’ve been having – the ones I mention above about realizing how connected I really am to this little life inside me, and how connected we’ve been since January when the spark was lit, they’re all discussed in beautiful detail in this book.
The drive home, and the evening that followed, and yes, I guess, even this morning too…have all been enriched by the experience of remembering my connection to this new magical life that has begun. And how I am so lucky – honored, even – to have this extraordinary opportunity to teach.