What To Expect When You're Expecting


I am so tired. Exhausted really. And uncomfortable. So uncomfortable. The pain is a steady drumbeat under the surface. I try to ignore it and move on, get on with my day, check items off my to-do list, but sometimes it gets so loud I just… can’t. Oh, I’m pregnant alright. Just not that kind of pregnant.

I’ve been here before, this uncomfortable place of unknowing. Usually there is a stirring that tells me something new is coming, that something wants to be born in me, but not this time. This time it’s as if I’m waiting for a kick or an elbow to the ribs to be sure there is even anything in there. And that fear, that maybe nothing is actually happening, leaves me shredded on the inside. There is a shroud of depression that falls, sometimes swiftly, and other times ever so gently it is almost unnoticeable… until I find myself sitting in front of my computer staring blankly, immobilized, uncertain, uncaring. And so I do what comes most naturally in that moment. I push - wanting whatever is inside of me to hurry up and be born. RIGHT NOW.

This is the root of my issue, as it often is. Somewhere I stopped watching in amazement at what the Divine is trying to birth in me and just took over. All of this gestation was taking too long. It made me anxious and afraid that there was really nothing there at all, that this was some sort of fake “pregnancy”. I was totally overwhelmed by this thought that maybe the only thing in here was just sadness and uncertainty and nothing else. Nothing real, nothing new. And from there, it is an easy leap, at least for me, to thinking that maybe nothing would be in there ever again. So I took over. And now the new goal was not to grow and nurture this thing that the Divine was creating in me, but to simply get it out of me. No expectant waiting. No bonding time with what is growing inside of my soul. No learning to love it, to create a home for it.

And so this space inside of me that I could not define, could not even be sure existed, became my enemy. I fought against it, tried to push it away, denied it, reframed it, and ignored it.

I was tired of the sadness.

And I was angry at the feeling of being completely untethered and disconnected from all the things that used to ground me.

And then yesterday, something changed, something just opened up. Well, it didn’t “just” open up. I was in a deep conversation - one where I felt held and heard and loved - and I realized that this thing in me would never be born unless I stopped - stopped pushing, controlling, forcing, grasping. It occurred to me that I could never birth this new dream or idea that was inside of me because I was unwilling to love it into being. So somewhere in the middle of this conversation I just did the only thing left to do. I just quit.

Sounds simple I know, but we both know it wasn't. It never is. The only simple thing about it is the moment of release, the moment when we finally give up and let go. Maybe we even raise our fists to the sky or lower our eyes to the earth, pleading for help. Or maybe it is less dramatic - a breath, a whisper, a sigh. Either way It is this moment of recognition, at least for me, that saves me every time. It is in the exhale and “ok I give up” that my breath begins to normalize, my shoulders drop and my jaw unclenches. It is in this moment of remembering who I am, and to whom I belong, that all the darkness and uncertainty begin to lift, allowing the faintest thread of light - and hope - back in.

The Universe has planted something inside of me - only me - to nurture and give birth to, something I don’t yet know, My job is to get to know it. How do I take care of it? How do I create an environment out here that will be nurturing to it, ready to receive it? How do I make a home for it in my already busy life? This new life doesn’t need me to create it. It only needs me to receive it.

Allow me to be clear. I am still uncertain. I am uncertain about what exactly is going to happen in my life in these next few months. I am uncertain what it will look like. I am uncertain about what it will ask of me and how it might change my life. But I am not uncertain that I am held and cared for and that all manner of things shall be well. I am not uncertain that the same Divine Universe that has led me to this place is still leading me. I am not uncertain that something amazing is about to happen. And I am very certain that my job in this birthing is hard but simple. Do the next right thing. Only that. One step at a time. One experience, opportunity, redirection, at a time. Doing only the next thing with confidence… that it is enough for now. And do it with joy - heart open, palms up, breath deep, and hopefully intact.

becky davidComment