We learn to sit pregnant in body, pregnant in thought, pregnant in emotion for little or not.
We learn to always make due. And this next step that feels neurotically real is the place of handing over our next gate of grace.
Never do we possess absolutes and the babe that comes is for full armor suit made of love, cherish and the anxious tremor of where do I hold tight and where do I give flight?
Babes are born from hopes and dreams and who they are is all that they form to be, because they are thee.
Now later when the babes are feeling full and we keep feeding because it lessens the pull, there is that thought of what beyond today? And even though one of our babes died before it lay, the inner question resonates full force quiet: will I ever raise what I was not honored with at breast? Will there be a child hungry who needs home and I must save financial place to make space for this little soul that could complete our home?
The questions remain but the answers do not deliver what has to be felt through time and plain. But non-the glorious luxurious time thought pass, where will the next babe of not womb but of need be born for us to secure his/her stay?
