I have given over to the process of becoming.
I am here without choice or consultation but instead with the pull of nature and tides and things that are all their own.
The need to figure it all out has been replaced by the need to hold on, to keep pace, to sustain. It has occured to me that pregnancy in winter is an odd juxtaposition - growing life against the grain of a frozen backdrop. I alternate between feelings of swimming upstream through a dormant world and the idea of nesting into the cozy calm, hibernating and growing.
In my body, every priority seems to have shifted overnight, as though the marrow in my bones, the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins has one primary purpose of nurturing babies. They lead and I follow - as they stretch I stretch, as they grow I grow, as they move I move.
Every kick, every stretch, gives me worlds of hope and wonder, so that as they take, I receive exponentially. And in the end this process is not only inevitable but necessary.