So here we are, 23 weeks pregnant, and this magical journey continues.
Speaking of journeys, I am currently in flight to visit with my two dear friends, Kim and Liz. College friends, shout out to all my DePaul Blue Demons out there!
As we were taking off, I was thinking back to the last time I flew to meet this group of women.
It was the day after my mom’s death wedding in 2019 that I left for Scottsdale for a girl’s trip that had been planned months in advance. I had mixed feelings about going at first as my mom was dead for what felt like two minutes, yet, I knew I was meant to go so I went.
I have a vivid memory of being at the airport and needing to ask the woman at the gate a question although I couldn’t speak. The words were caught in my throat, mixed with all the sadness and grief, unable to come out. Tears rolled down my face while I stood there looking at her, I’m not even sure I asked what I needed to ask.
Eventually, we boarded and I sat at the window and cried the whole way there. When I arrived, I was greeted with long overdue hugs and loads of empathy. Sadly, most of my friends in this particular group have experienced major losses (and much earlier in their adulthood) so they knew exactly what I was going through.
The change of scenery, being with them, and the Arizona sunset was just what the grief doctor ordered after weeks of dealing with death.
My, how things have changed. Again, I sit at the window but this time about six months pregnant, rubbing my belly, and off to Vail to celebrate new life and friendship.
I have found traveling while expecting to be fun. I have my precious cargo and it’s true what they say, everyone is really really nice to you when you’re pregnant. Women smile from afar when they get an eyeful of my belly and I even got moved up to a seat with more legroom. I’ll take it as my sciatic pain is like a ball of fire in my ass cheek.
The most magical part of this pregnancy journey so far has been feeling the baby move. Oh, my goddess. I don’t even have words to describe it, but I’ll try. At first, it feels like gas. No for real. It’s like that line from The Christmas Carol when Jacob Marley comes to visit Scrooge and Scrooge says:
You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
(I love that line so much.)
It’s hard to believe it’s not gas or undigested beef, and it’s actually the baby kicking. Even though there is something extremely alien-like about a tiny human moving around in my belly and I feel much like a marsupial, it is by far the sweetest moment of my 39 years of life.
Every time I feel a kick, I run to Anthony, place his hand on my belly, and we wait patiently for our baby to move again and then we freak out in excitement when it does.
There are so many journeys we take. Some are so fucking hard. Hard and heartbreaking. And then there are the wonderful ones that help balance it all out.
I suppose that is what life is all about. The happy, the sad, the tears, and the laughs.
A mixture of the ugly and the beautiful.
The moments you wish to not remember and those you never ever want to forget.
Even with this pregnancy journey, it took a lot of tears, heartbreak, and bad news to get to this point…but we got here.
And that’s the lesson that life actually teaches us in all of this. You’re gonna get knocked down on your ass and your heart is going to get banged up, but then when you’re ready (because it takes time to get back up on your feet again) you keep on truckin’.
Eventually, life will get you to exactly where you’re supposed to be.
And here we are.
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