From the time that I first found out I was pregnant, I began telling the little
then-blueberry sized boy, "Baby, this is ___________!"
the blank would be filled in with
the smell of a rose from our yard
little snippets of life
narrated way before he could even hear.
Surely over the last few days he's felt the sharp inward pull of my muscles as I lean into
the waves I ride...
"Baby," I say, "this is grief".
I want to tell him
that it is a natural and normal part of life,
and that he should fear it no more than he should joy
or balance or anger.
Since Friday our magnificent young Jones has slowed down so much.
He who used to rattle all the blinds around the house at 5 a.m.,
whose door knocking and impatient call would ritualistically follow my shower like clockwork
is quiet and sleeping nearly all the time.
Anthony and I have been weighing the possibilities that may come tomorrow
when he gets sedated and checked fully with an ultrasound...
we have been trying to cope with the fact that we may not, even then, know quite what is going on
with his little body
but we are hoping we will
and that decisions can be made that will be the right blend
and completely stubborn.
For now I've said everything I've ever wanted to say to him
and I hope that he understands just how loved he is
and what joy he has brought to our lives.
I've had so much support from you and my animal-loving friends
who completely understand this purgatory we find ourselves in:
Words cannot express what it means to hear your stories
I hope to be given an update tomorrow
that brings great news or at least great peace
so that I can breathe and say out loud to my Orion
"Baby, this is a miracle."