36 Weeks

I should be cleaning

Packing my hospital bag

Frantically preparing

I chose instead

To sit in the sun

To read the words he left me

On the kitchen counter

Before heading to work

Over and over and over

I’m sipping hot coffee

In the warm light

My giant belly

Rolls and stretches

Like the waves of the sea

I feel small in the best way

Large in the way of being

Aggressively pregnant

Theres a humility

That only comes

With the business of bearing life

It shows how incredible

And how powerless

You are

While my cheeks get red

And my uterus presses painfully

On my pelvis

I consider

All the times

My body has been a vessel

The times it was fruitful

The time that it wasn’t

At 20 weeks

The first time I saw her

Looking like a baby

Her beautiful profile and spine

They told me

There was a small chance

Something could be “wrong”

A very low chance

Less than one percent

Nothing to worry about

Still

On the heels of a miscarriage

It wasn’t zero

I suppose

It never is

Percentage

Blood tests

Scans

All melted out of my mind

The moment the doctor spoke the words

My redemptive

Hopeful pregnancy

Became besmirched

With fear

Boxes I didn’t know I had

Dumped out into my mind

Full of scampering doubts

Menacing maladies

Sinister smears of “what if”

I tend to not bother with fear

I don’t do emotional manipulation

Don’t suffer

Being backed into corners

But this

My baby

Even this smallest possibility

Loomed over me

Like a Tsunami

I told no one

For many months

It was a hidden prick of panic

That only Leroy could see

While it wore it’s way across my face

Stole and thieved through

Our everyday lives

While I was cutting tiny carrots

Forcing myself to buy baby clothes

One day

During a car ride

He said to me

“What does it matter anyway? That’s our baby. We love our baby. The end.”

His excitement undimmed

Made my near constant struggle to stay calm

Seem ridiculous

Of course it doesn’t matter

The doctor kept telling me not to worry

As he scheduled a follow up ultrasound

For my third trimester

To see if the concerns

He wasn’t worried about

Had passed

Or become solid

That ultrasound finally came

Revealing

All was “fine”

I could be relieved

I was

I am

And also

Not

That’s the thing about fear

Once you give it ground

It tends to takeover

The Mint of your emotions

Digs deep down

Choking everything

Every morning

A breathing

Sentient life inside me

Every morning

Since 20 weeks

My eyes open

Take a deep breath and say to myself

“God has not given us a spirit of fear.”

On my way to the coffee grinder

I recite

“She is fine. It’s all fine. Feel how hard she kicks.”

It’s exhausting

To start every morning

In war

The truth is

Any number of things

Can go “wrong”

At any time

Scans or no

All beyond my control

On the morning of that last ultrasound

However

I awoke with something unlooked for

In my brain

God placed it there

Like dessert

A song lyric slash bible verse

I haven’t heard since childhood

My eyes opened

To wearily

Take one more stab

At my enemy

The words pressed through

With such distinction

That I said them out loud

“Whose report will you believe? We shall believe the report of the Lord.”

It was annoying

All the way to the coffee grinder

It rang in my head

All day long

Until finally

Upon exiting the appointment

That was supposed to be my reprieve

I asked myself

Do I really want

To wage this war

Do I really want to wring my hands

Submit my heart

To an eternal “maybe”

Each moment of this life

Is a mystery

How truly barren

To let my Joy wither on the vine

For fear it will rot

If I pick it

I should be consuming it

Swallowing it down

Like sunshine

Building the strength

That only comes with rejoicing

In spite of

And in the face of

Any circumstance

The truth is

Fear

Doesn’t change anything

But Joy

Always alters

Lends power

Beyond our temporal trials

So

While I should be cleaning

Preparing

Frantically doing frantic things

To appease the almighty checklist

I’m giving fear the boot

Picking up the paper he left me

Just one more time

Baking in the sun

While my Tiny Teacher

Reminds me of her strength

And my own

Choosing

The report that says

Whatever comes

Whatever doesn’t

Today is just as good a day as any

For cinnamon rolls

“Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks. Send some to those who have nothing. This day is holy. Do not grieve, for the Joy of the Lord is your strength.”