I’ve felt teary for the past 5 days or so, almost like a mild depression. I haven’t been able to articulate why to anyone who asks. I’ve tried really hard to hold back the tears and press on- somewhat frustrated that this perfectly joyful season of new life feels tainted by a darkness I just don’t understand. I’ve attempted to analyze it and settled on the assumption this weekend that it was a combination of shifting hormones, fear of my body’s inability to healthily sustain Eve and I until the end, fear also that my body would be unable to initiate the birth process on its own, and frustration with not knowing the day or time God is going to call her from the womb. I decided it must just be the unpredictability of the season that was wearing on me . . .
That was until last night . . .
Jonah has been extra desirous of my attention the past few days. He has requested to be held and rocked and laid still in my arms for hours. I’ve wondered if he senses the changes to come. I think he does. Last night he struggled to fall asleep. I heard him crying for me from his bed. I went in and his sob was deep. I got a bottle, laid him across my lap and rocked him. I felt the warmth of his face against my bear arm and his hand on my chest. I sensed that he was absorbing me and my affection and I was doing to the same with him. I was flooded in those moments with images of nursing him . . . Where did the time go? How did he so quickly go from my belly to this state of independence? I rocked him until he fell asleep, then laid him down in his bed and I broke. I ran downstairs so I wouldn’t wake anyone and I sobbed harder than I have in a long time. My heart was grieving as if I were losing him. The only way I can describe it is that it felt like together we were approaching a death of some sort. Death of all we’ve ever known . . .
I feel desperate to hold on to what we share and I can’t help but grieve the change that’s coming. The tears are endless it seems. I’m aware that Eve will ultimately enhance our lives, and I do desire her. She’s mine too. She’s just as much my baby as Jonah, but in these final days alone with him, she feels like a threat, and I’m not sure how to change that. As much as I ache to have her in my arms, when I’m really honest, I’m perfectly content with her where she is as well. The familiarity and sanctity of what I know is protected as long as she is in me . . . I don’t have to ration my attention and affection. I can mindlessly meet all her needs and fulfill Jonah’s as well. . .