Your first shy hello to me was by way of an insatiable craving for obscure recipes. I finally gave in and went to the store and bought peanuts and raddishes and other unusual ingredients. Then the usual symptoms set in: a sudden need for an afternoon nap, bras suddenly to small to hold my new curves, a general uplift in my spirit - feelings of sudden inexplicable joy and strength would seize me and seemingly never let up.
I knew from a few days on that I was pregnant. Expecting at 42. I felt biblical, I felt singled out for a miracle, I felt happy. I felt like Sarah and Hannah must have felt when they realized they were pregnant by God's will.
Jacob and I held off on a test for a few more weeks, we wanted to wrap our minds around a shockingly new reality that had seemed to not be possible for us anymore. We made careful plans, always hedging for the possibility that you might go away before we ever laid eyes upon your beating heart. All the statistics reminded us to do so, but hope kept us in happy denial.
When we finally did the test, we felt that pure, shiny joy that only comes a few times in life. We were numb to anything negative. Together we could do anything. Even make a new life. We went and ran through the mud, the pictures of that day, tell a story of two people who share a new wellspring of joy together.
I was feeling too sure, perhaps. Too cocky. I was in awe that my 42-year-old body wanted to do this, but I was happy for the experience. I made first preparations. Bought a sulfide-free shampoo. Tweaked my diet, abstained from caffein and even took it easy - something that is hard for me to do.
You chose to leave me at 6 weeks this Thursday on an unbearably sunny, happy day with little warning but much pain and suffering. But I welcomed the physical pain, because it made you real to me and it helped me justify all the tears that are still flowing as I once again go from Sarah to Job - wondering what else difficult God has in store for me.
I imagined you many times during the six weeks we had together. Tough never boy or girl, you were happy and a precious sibling to Gus. It make me especially happy to daydream up a sibling for Gus. "I can't make friends for him, but I can make a sibling for him," I thought to myself - probably with more self-satisfaction than God wants to see from me.
But most of all you made me happy without much reason. Just happy for no reason other than that you were there, growing and making me feel more whole by the day. I am so very grateful for your brief stay in my body for the brief respite you brought to my sore soul, for the belief you gave me that good things are still ahead of me.
Now I try to keep you in my heart and harvest some of that joy that you gave me. Your absence fills me with great sadness, but I try to remember that you were here for a reason, I just have to find that reason and hold on to it.
Thank you, little startling, for coming into my life.