Wednesday April 20

Being pregnant is a terrific terrible beauty. Losing a child is a tragedy -- it is the death of a human already loved but never known and then there is a type of never ending wait for eternity -- a chance to meet that soul.

Life comes again and to walk believing in life and not in death is a mental battle fought only by deep trust and by the will to offer joy and peace to the life that is alive and growing.

Meanwhile, I'm making room for bodily changes. Changes that shake and swell and shift limbs and lungs and lines. Sleep changes, eating changes, routine changes, feelings change.

The wait is the same. Boy? Girl? Calm? Energetic? Awake? Asleep? Alive? It is impossible not to question that one. It is only grace and mercy and prayer to concentrate on the present. Meals. Laundry. A child with a stuffed tiger named Lucy that is spitting up to much so she requires a great deal of care. And another child with a flashlight that has incredible powers and a husband with a new style of playing the banjo and friends and community and chickens and trips to the cabin and family and thinking of anyone but self. This is a nearly impossible task these days. Let go and look outside.

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