In the first waking moments of my day, I rest a hand on my belly, the other on my chest. A silent 'good morning' and 'may you be well today,' to the child in my warm womb. I hold this for a couple sweet moments. Eyes closed, inner ears open to little sensations within my body.
As I feel the thump of my own heartbeat, I can’t help but wonder if that resonance is being transmitted to the tiny little embryo developing inside me. Barely the size of a blueberry, I can feel its spirit moving me to a soft and quiet space.
“Can you feel me breathe? Does my voice vibrate the fluids that encase you?”
During these early months of pregnancy, I’m being called to nest in the comfort of my own home. My body is asking me to slow down, to do less in the afternoons, to utilize the boost of energy in the morning and practice yoga or get work done. It’s hard to gauge my energy level and ability to properly focus in the late afternoons and evenings but the safe haven of home with my partner is the perfect medicine.
I find myself being a little less social as I learn how to navigate conversations. It takes everything in me to not let it slip after being so open about my fertility journey. I want so badly to share this time with loved ones, and it kills me that I can’t. Or rather, I know that I could, but there’s a deeper voice asking me to keep using this time to connect deeper with myself before I let the world in.
Sometimes I dream of a secret society where women who are in this place can gather together and share, laugh and cry, hold each other close during this fragile time. Imagine a world where women can retreat to such a place for the first three months in a tender cave of love. In my mind, it looks and feels like a womb; a space to hibernate and relate.
What it comes down to I suppose is that we as human beings yearn to be genuine and truthful in our engagements with the world. My study of yoga, meditation, spirituality teach me to remove the masks and allow my heart to shine - always. As I continue to practice this state of being, I currently wear a sheer veil when I step outside the house, and while most of the time it doesn’t get in the way, some days it can feel itchy and lonely.
I am learning more and more that patience revolves around its own time; not man made. As if it were its own revolution, its own vibration, it has no bearing on days, weeks, months. I am trying to navigate my days around the timetable of patience, but boy does it feel L O N G. And in the midst of winter, it can feel extra long and closed in.
But hence, what am I complaining about?
I am pregnant! This is an honor and a privilege. Not all women get to experience this. I need to remember that when I prayed for this baby, I also bowed to everything that comes with the process. I bowed to the emotional roller coaster of the fertility journey. And though that felt hard, I must now surrender sweetly to this phase of pregnancy.