Monday, January 30, 2006

Just One Small Moment

I've been thinking about my friends itc who are pregnant right now. I also happen to have more than a few friends in the flesh that are pregnant too. (I won't say, "irl" because I happen to think you friends in the computer are real life too.)

My first good friend who got pregnant was Lynne. She called me right before she left for Jerusalem and told me her news. I can still remember the morning-- I was lounging about in Partner's apartment on the bed. The morning was very sunny and bright, and I thought Lynne had left already for the airport. I was reading a book. After she told me, I kept walking around thinking about her being pregnant and being in Jerusalem, and it felt somehow meaningful to me. And probably to Lynne. I imagined being her and being a Modern Orthodox Jewish woman and visiting Jerusalem when you knew you were just pregnant with your first baby. I tried writing about it, and what came out ultimately, is below. This poem is a good three to four years old now. (Wait-- I could figure this out with one phone call to Lynne-- how old is darling first born now??) When I wrote the poem, I never thought we'd still be waiting to have babies around here. My friend is having her third baby now, and I am so excited for her. Every birth we talked about whether or not I'll be there. For this one, we are both really hoping I can be in the room. For her second, I got there a few hours after the baby was born. It was very powerful. I remember Lynne asking me to pick up the baby and utter fear I got when I looked in the bassinet and thought about picking up such a new fragile life.

I'm arching up on the hope quotient this week. I'm feeling like maybe it might happen. I'm scared to death about it happening and I'm scared to death about it not happening. Ultrasound and blood tests tomorrow. We'll see.

But for now, for all my pregnant friends and especially Lynne, my poem:

Lynne, in August, Ten Weeks Pregnant

Everyday a seamless series of remembrances:
no coffee in the morning,
no glass of wine with Shabbos lunch,
don’t wear those pants too tight,
rest in the humid afternoons.
Each moment, another thought—
an instant of attention—becomes true Judaism.

Her womb the perfect Siddur,
the magnification of prayer.

When she lies down at night, she thinks
of the translucent skin, the fish-like creature living
inside, the tender buds that will expand into arms,
extend long fingers, lengthen kicking thighs.
how the mikvah waters
are inside now, holding life.

The sound of a baby crying in the supermarket stills her
from two aisles over. She presses a hand into her stomach

and she knows
everything is holy.


Blogger Anna said...

Wow, that was really lovely. Looking forward to your ultrasound results tomorrow! I'll be checking in to see what's what.

I hope your evening last night went okay. I know what it's like to be an emotional wreck while entertaining, adn it's just miserable. The food being prepared, however sounded great - how did your evening turn out?

(Thanks for the lovely comments on my post! Have a great evening!)

5:26 PM  
Blogger starevelina said...

What a beautiful poem. Thanks for posting it. `Thinking really good thoughts for your results tomorrow.

9:44 PM  
Blogger PortLairge said...

That is so beautiful. I'll be thinking about you and Partner tomorrow.

10:30 PM  
Anonymous MFA Mama said...

Owww fuckitall how can you have written that and I've had three effing children and do I make it sound that profound? Pfffft. Don't listen to me, I'm zany with mixed headache prescriptions. Very nice, and very wishful the thinking from over here, you know, in my spare time.

3:12 AM  
Blogger Nico said...

That's a beautiful poem. It expresses the hope and delight of pregnancy so well. I hope that you get to experience that in the extremely near future!!

11:52 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Darling first born is almost 4 years old. Wow. I love the poem and am so touched that you wrote about me. I'm hoping a pregnant you will be beside me as baby #3 comes into this world. Love, Love, Love - Lynne

12:14 PM  
Blogger Katie (WannaBeMom) said...

Darling first born is ALMOST FOUR? Man. So that poem is at least four years old. Does that mean I am actually aging too?

2:24 PM  
Blogger ~cj~ said...

beautiful poem katie :)

2:35 AM  

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