We talked this morning about starting to enjoy this pregnancy.

It’s been going on for 35 weeks now, and melka expressed recently a fear that it’s gonna be over soon – hopefully with a live baby – and what happens to all this experience? Why haven’t we enjoyed it like we should?

Well, nothing kills joy like deep, unshakable fear. So melka and I have been enjoying the pregnancy in tiny, discreet ways. One is watching the hiccups that this little person is experiencing. When melka feels particularly harsh kicks, she laughs. She says ow, woah, everything – but never complains.

And I’m sure, in her heart, she’s talking to this little one, in a special language that I can’t speak yet.

These kinds of things are so private, talking about them – if only for a minute or two – is a big deal. I told her that, if we get through this week 35 without a crisis, I want to start enjoying it a little more. Our Malina died at around this time, and while the ultrasound yesterday was a-ok, we’ve been a little hesitant to celebrate. That may come later.

So, maybe pictures this weekend. Maybe I’ll be able to talk to the belly, say hello to this baby, tell this baby that I’m in love. Astoundingly to those outside our little grief world, I haven’t done any of those things yet. That’s what I did with Malina – and it’s just too sad to repeat that.

It’s all the more important that we arm ourselves with attempts at enjoyment.

When we were grieving Malina, it was a weird feeling. I’ve got an anxious, depressive history, but I’ve never been one without the other. For me, losing Malina was the worst thing… and suddenly I had grief but little worry. I wasn’t fearing that something bad could happen anymore – it already had happened. Instead, I was just lost.

Now, we’re doing both: grieving, and worrying.

(greetings to GITW visitors, melka – my superior in communication – will be adding soon.)