(no subject)
Surreal, is what it was, laying there with my pregnant belly exposed, covered in ultrasound jelly. He was holding my hand, looking oddly calm. The shock of finding out that I was carrying had passed, and we had already come to the conclusion that this baby would, indeed, be adopted.
The room was warm and dark, I could hear the soft "woosh" of the baby's heart beat. Then the proclamation was made "It's a girl, congratulations." My facade crumbled. What was calm in me, what was settled, came undone. I wanted to shatter, but I couldn't shake the pieces apart. I cried silently. tears rolled down my face in waves and I turned away from both of them and stared at the screen. I stared at my daughter. She was little, and I could see her spine, little bones. the tech showed us view upon view of her, her little hands, her little face, her little posterior.
My heart broke, and I was 17 again. It should not have mattered to me, in that moment, what I carried. But I mourned, immediately the loss of another girl. I decided, then to be the best mother to her that I could for the time she was mine. She listened to Ella Fitzgerald through headphones on my belly. She got patted when she kicked, talked to when she flipped around in me like a gymnast. I slept on the wrong side, because it would settle her down, we listened to Yo Yo Ma when I worked, because Beethoven made her squirmy. I gave up my love of spicy food, she would really throw a fit when I ate it.
To see her now, so beautiful, so sassy, so loved, reminds me of that day. When I knew my world had shifted, when I knew my life had changed, when I knew my heart had broken. But only to expand the space a little, to include a place just for Grace.
The room was warm and dark, I could hear the soft "woosh" of the baby's heart beat. Then the proclamation was made "It's a girl, congratulations." My facade crumbled. What was calm in me, what was settled, came undone. I wanted to shatter, but I couldn't shake the pieces apart. I cried silently. tears rolled down my face in waves and I turned away from both of them and stared at the screen. I stared at my daughter. She was little, and I could see her spine, little bones. the tech showed us view upon view of her, her little hands, her little face, her little posterior.
My heart broke, and I was 17 again. It should not have mattered to me, in that moment, what I carried. But I mourned, immediately the loss of another girl. I decided, then to be the best mother to her that I could for the time she was mine. She listened to Ella Fitzgerald through headphones on my belly. She got patted when she kicked, talked to when she flipped around in me like a gymnast. I slept on the wrong side, because it would settle her down, we listened to Yo Yo Ma when I worked, because Beethoven made her squirmy. I gave up my love of spicy food, she would really throw a fit when I ate it.
To see her now, so beautiful, so sassy, so loved, reminds me of that day. When I knew my world had shifted, when I knew my life had changed, when I knew my heart had broken. But only to expand the space a little, to include a place just for Grace.