We are now trying to conceive our third child. And within the next week, the sentiment goes from ‘we're trying to get pregnant’ to ‘this is when it could happen’. Or, as Mr. Hall says,
I am very thankful I started this blog after my two children were born. Now I can write our stories better. Beyond the cold hard facts I mean. Watch how the stories change throughout this post.
Pancake was conceived on a Sunday night after an episode of X-files. We had been married about 4 months. There was a beige futon involved. When I took the pregnancy test, it was a Saturday morning. The toilet seat had cracked the night before and it pinched my tush.
When the test turned positive I plotzed. I didn’t believe it. I called the nurse help line and asked if I should have a blood test to make sure. I called my friends and my mom. It stunned me for a long time. An excited stunned, but I was stunned none the less.
Mac was conceived on a Monday morning after we dropped Pancake off at day care. We were in the lower level guest bedroom in our first house. We were really, really tired, but it was fun none the less.
When that test turned positive, I was in my kitchen. I did a little jig and called Mr. Hall. He was not as shocked or surprised. But I was. I was happy and more relaxed but it was still a matter of-"I can’t believe it worked!"
With both pregnancies, the state of shock wore off when zombie like exhaustion and nausea become my constant companions. Nothing takes pregnancy from an abstract thought to an unrelenting and bone crushing reality, faster than that. But really, this time around, I am prepared for all if it. I have learned to nap sitting in my office chair. I have learned to puke with ninja like precision. No biggie :)
So let me start talking about our next baby. Who is already here by the way. The kids have always been here, even before they were conceived. It's just a matter of when they will arrive. Because they are here right now, in our hearts.
This next baby will be conceived a bit differently. This time I am just letting go and letting it all happen. Without ovulation charts, without obsessing. I'm letting the miracle happen, as is.
Which really, it’s happened that way in the first place, twice.
Becoming pregnant is a largely invisible process. I cannot make any of this happen by planning or sheer force of will. It's a matter of turning my body over to the divine and letting her unseen magic whirl within.
This is the pigeon pose by the way. I pose I did this morning. Go yoga!
All of this is coming from us and outside us. All at the same time. For us, first came the love, then came the marriage, then came the baby in the baby carriage.
And make no mistake, there is no love like married love. Living together doesn’t even come close. At least not for us. Then there is the love I have for him- because he made me pregnant. Our babies grew inside my belly because of him. There are no words for this. Just paroxysms of joy and permeated bliss.
Which I find myself feeling, over and over again, in the dark. We turned off the lights and we crawl into bed, feeling the warmth of our dark red comforter. We nuzzle and spoon in our cherry wood sleigh bed. Our babies snoozing sleepily across the hall. Babies we birthed. All of us here, home.
In the dark, during these nights, I feel whole and full of God’s grace. I feel the swirling energy emanating from inside and outside our bodies. In the dark, when we are bound round each other, smooshed and warm, I feel touched by the hand of God. I feel the miracle of our marriage. A miracle we've been blessed with.
And maybe, just maybe, before next month, we will be blessed with yet another miracle still.
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