Fantasy vs. Reality

This morning I'm feeling the ache. Like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. An ache of the heart. I swallow, but the lump doesn't dispense, it only grows. I try and think about something else...anything, but for some reason my mind is inanimate, and holds fast, refusing to allow any other thought to penetrate it's hemispheres. I groan, but no sound escapes, I cry, but no tears fall. I'm drowning in this ache, this emptiness, like I'm missing something. Something is missing.

How is it possible to love a child so much that has yet to have life? And yet I do. I love this unconceived child with everything within me. I find myself letting go of reality for a period of time, imagining he or she. How can I not when even my unconscious dreams possess images of this tiny new life? I awake from those dreams reluctant to let go of that place, I am content there, I can breathe there. This nightmare only exists when I'm awake.

I can imagine everything. I close my eyes and slip into a place in my mind that is safe. Nobody can find me there, it's my secret. My favorite place to reside. I feel whole there, never feel that gaping void......

I'm not feeling quite myself...just off. Is it possible? With shaky hands, I'd pee on that stick. It's Positive. I'm in disbelief. I take two more tests. They're all positive.

He comes home from and says I'm glowing. Does he know already? Maybe it's just because I'm beaming. I tell him in the way I've planned. He didn't suspect a thing. I watch his face register shock, then realization, then there it is...now he's beaming. This is a great moment.

I'm at the doctor's office, we're excited. I've got butterflies fluttering in my tummy, their wings snapping, synchronizing with my rapid pulse. With baited breath we wait for it, the sign of life, a heartbeat. This finally feels real now. I laugh and compare it to a galloping horse.

I look at the clock, he's late, he's supposed to meet me here. He had to take the afternoon off. I know he wouldn't miss it. They call my name, and as I start to rise, I feel him take my hand, and hurriedly kiss me, out of breathe. He's anxious, too.

There's a cold sensation, and then a lot of pressure from the probe. If they press any harder there's going to be a clean up on aisle gurney. I'm bursting from all the water I was told to drink to get a better picture from the ultrasound. I push the urge to the back of my mind, focusing on the monitor. My eyes cannot leave the screen, I can see nothing else, I'm in awe. They ask if we want to know the sex. We do not, it's one of life's far precious few surprises.

I am slightly round with child, my hand lovingly placed over the swell of my abdomen. I feel a flutter...a rippling effect, then a small tap - or at least that's how I imagine it to be - and it has finally happened. That first tiny kick. I am ecstatic.

I experience a tightening of my skin, it's stretched beyond it's limit. I'm swollen, tired, and can't hardly bend over. None of this matters.

Is it time? A stabbing pain grips me. We time the pains. It is time!

I'm restless and exhausted. I can't take this no more. I start to question why I had wanted this...was I crazy? No. I focus, keeping my mind on the end result. I draw the strength I need, I press on.

I wait for it, holding my own breath, and then it happens. I hear that first wail, that, lungs-cleared, ear-piercing squawk flooding my ears. It's the most beautiful sound in the world. No choir or world-renowned orchestra could compare.

Love cannot be measured, has not a capacity, a volume, or mass, but yet I'm cradling love in my arms. I look down, and am so overwhelmed by the waves of emotion that I feel. I am now drowning in my own tears.

Weak eyes struggle against the light of this new world, trying to focus on my face. "Hello there," we'd both say without a physical word spoken. "I've been waiting for you."

I am no longer empty. I am complete. My soul yearns no more. Everything has lead up to this moment. I am thankful. I've been blessed...

Reality is a real bitch, isn't it?