The Gritty Truth

I promised to write often and alas, I have had trouble doing so. Not because there is little to write about because there is always something to say but, because what I need to write is hard and having other's read it is harder.

There is the practical side of expecting a baby that leaves me with constant questions and quandaries to my friends and family. Such as, how does one go about buying a Jogger that fits the car seat properly? Since I'm only 90% sure that I am having a girl, should I stick with neutrals so as not to grow attached to pretty things should that 10% overtake the odds? It's hot and I often feel immensely unattractive - how did you expecting mothers cope out there? (Feel free to answer these questions. They are not rhetorical.) I fill my days with finding answers to these questions. I spend countless hours searching online, reading the articles and thrift shopping for bargains. I eat the salad and the fiber to combat the "pregnancy side effects" and I wash my face multiple times a day to clear up the skin that dislikes the heat and the hormones. I occasionally wear the black maxi dress and heals with a splash of my favorite perfume and feel beautiful in my stretching skin. But, no amount of researching, pampering pedicures and soul centering yoga sessions/front of the mirror pep talks can reassure my deepest insecurities.

I always knew he would be leaving the area. Leaving for good. Not far enough away to limit access but far enough that all ties are figuratively severed by his move and consequently, my decision to let him leave. But he will never leave; the eyes or the hair or the skin tone or the quiet demeanor that will be my daughter will never leave. And the part of me that never wants to see him again will see him again and again in her. And the part of me that wishes he weren't gone will find him in her again and again. And there is no doubt that my heart will ache. Will there be any doubt my heart will ache? I won't really be alone.....? A part of him loves her.....?

I've never found words so hard to come by. I've never been at a loss for how to express my feelings. In the fact that this has taken me longer to write than anything since a 60 page Dr. B. IR paper in college tells me how deep the emotion is. Past what I can easily write and easily share. But, still not past the deeper instinct of motherhood that has already marked my soul.

dare i dream

of a deeper me

dare i dream

beyond what i dream

dare i dream

to feel more than i

dare to dream

at 24 weeks 4 days.