Today’s author is displaying a kind of bravery that I don’t think I, or many people I know, could. The post you are about to read is full of a sweet and secret hope, of worry and wondering and joy.
Sadly, so sadly, the author miscarried a week or so after sending this to us. She’s asked that we still post it – even during this time of incredible hurt and devastation she wanted to be able to remember her hope.
You are the intake of breath as I talk about something else. You are the tailing off of every sentence. Staying as quiet as a mouse, holding so much back. We’ve chosen to only tell the closest people about you, worrying about raising too many hopes (our hopes, mainly). Letting it out in the strangest of places: the hairdressers, a new acquaintance, a random waitress in a cafe. Seeing how news of you lights up these faces, faces that won’t even know you but are moved and delighted by the news. Oh how I can’t wait til you make the faces dearest to me light up like that. I carry you round with me everyday, precious cargo.
You were our greatest fear for so long when we were too young, too poor, our lives too transient. Then suddenly -was it overnight?- you became our greatest wish. Separately we arrived at the thought of you, together we agreed it was time. We watched distant fireworks so far from home. Always the most magical night of the year, but unaware of the magic already happening inside. Oblivious but desiring. I feasted on everything I’m now denied. Deep down knowing there was a chance but doubting the likelihood after all these years.
I try to understand the science, the logic of it all. It fascinates me and I’m reading everything I can, learning so much. It is all to try and get a grip on you, to try and gauge you. But sometimes it is still too hopelessly abstract. I was told you were a strawberry last week but I look at a punnet and wonder- which one? Which size? The desire to know you is so strong.
If happiness could be a factor in your creation, know that it was a time of bliss. Of the hugest skies, the starriest nights, the warmest sun. I have since been growing you in the darkness, hidden and covered up. But I see the snowdrops pushing through and the budding blossom coming out and I am consumed by thoughts of the new emerging life inside. I’m impatient as you remain our quiet little secret. I can’t wait til you become the biggest news that we’ll shout loudly from the rooftops.