I’ve been doing a lot of non-thinking kind of thinking over the course of the past two weeks.

Non-thinking thinking as in : you find yourself completely wrapped up, taken over by thousands of overwhelming thoughts, feelings and emotions, while simultaneously being able to compartmentalize them into a simplistic classification system of : no-thinking.

This is how I operate.

This is how I handle emotional stress and duress. I don’t ignore it, I don’t push it away — it is there, at the forefront — just in a controlled, systematic order.

One month and one day ago, I woke up and knew.

You know the kind of knowing I’m talking about — the no shadow of a doubt, with every bone and ounce of living Truth in your body — you simply know.

That kind of knowing is dangerous. Because it transcends all reasonable reasoning. Because it is Truth and nothing — nothing — is more powerful than Truth.

Truth fuels us with the necessary internal resources to make the impossible possible. It stops at nothing and no one. While remaining effortlessly peaceful.

My Truth told me : you are pregnant.

And unlike FoH, every particle of my being rejoiced in this Truth. The Know said — yes, baby, you are who I have been waiting for. You are my meant to be.

And unlike FoH, every aspect of this pregnancy felt aligned. Felt right. Felt sure.

This is not to say FoH wasn’t “right” or “aligned” — simply that I had feelings about this baby that I did not with FoH. I attribute a lot of this to fear.

I was terrified to become a Mother. I was terrified to know this little pure perfect being was growing inside of me. I was terrified of all the what ifs; the unknowns. Now. I am not afraid. Because The Know, because Truth.

Truth. What an ass kicker.

People, Something happens to you the moment you discover that you are indeed, carrying life inside of you.   I know The Details of this something are different for every woman but this I can assure you is universal : Love.

Your heart breaks in yet another new way you didn’t know was possible and suddenly expands — the depths of which feel endless for this child.

The switch has been turned.

Suddenly, there is nothing — mark my words — nothing — that you will not do that is acting out on what you feel is for the betterment of that baby.

I started monitoring my internal dialogue to make sure I was in a positive mind frame. I made sure I was eating the absolute best (when I could eat). I began staring in the mirror; lingering. I snapped side pictures. Amazed, once again — that here I was, growing life — LIFE. And what an incredible honor and privilege that is.

I’d rub my stomach and close my eyes. Picturing this baby surrounded by white light, picturing what we would look like as a family of four.

Four.

I stumbled my way through March. Feeling good, for the most part, during the day. Crashing as soon as my day ended. Being repulsed by all foods. Exhausted by the time night rolled around.

I felt comforted by these typical pregnancy symptoms. I was feeling as I should be. Not too good and not too bad. I was a mix, right in between.

Two weeks and two days it’s been since I found myself, heart a flutter, sitting in the ultrasound room. The first showing. The first showing of what will be a part of my life … for forever, literally.

The first showing of an extension of me, of FoH, of The BF. A confirmation of a due date that I didn’t need. I already knew. The baby would line up with The BF, similarly to how FoH lines up with me. I had already declared the date as November 11th. Why? Because the know, knows. And, I couldn’t think of a more powerful number combination.

11.11.

Yet. I was not prepared, not ready for The First Showing to hear that not everything showed up that should have shown up … something could be not “right.” I grilled the woman, searching her face for some sort of betrayal, some lie. Something else she had that she wasn’t giving me.

Should I worry? Should I be concerned? Is something seriously wrong?

These were questions that my doctor could not even answer. It could be something, it could be nothing. There was only one thing to do.

Wait.

In the meantime, things would continue on paper. November 11th was confirmed. Of course it was. Because … duh, The Know. Because Truth. Because no fear.

So I waited. Nine days of waiting. Nine days that as hard as I tried, I could think of nothing else but this child in me. Of course everything was fine.

Why would it not be? Look at FoH. Look at how good my life is. These aren’t things I needed to truly worry about.

As I laid there last Thursday, with The BF and TC flanking my side, all of us starting up at the mounted screen, I knew. There was a baby. There was no baby.

There was life.

There was no life.

I understood then, instantly and so completely the dichotomy that this Life is. Two contradictory truths that are indeed, true. At the same time.

We all watched, as measurement after measurement was taken. She said nothing. She didn’t need to.

The immediate feelings of loss that overcame me caught me by surprise. I wanted to cry. I felt the hot tears flooding my eyes and I quickly blinked them back, willed them away. I would not cry. Not here, not now. I would not lose my shit with a glorified paper towel wrapped around me.

I would not lose my shit.

I would not lose my shit.

I would not lose my shit.

This was not the time or the place. There were details to handle. Conversations to have. I had to be clear minded. I had to be able to shut off one part to turn on the other. I could not, even under the circumstances, allow myself to be taken over by grief.

Fall apart later. Now is the time when you shake your head. yes or no. Answer the questions. Ask the questions. Sign your name. Give your initials. Get things in order for the next day.

It wasn’t until we were about to leave that I thought to ask for a picture. It hadn’t even crossed my mind during the ultrasound. Too much had happened, how could I have remembered?.

But I needed something, I needed that. I just needed to have something physical, tangible to remember — this life was real. This life mattered. It counted. And god damn, I just needed the damn picture.

One week, People. One week. One week ago I was still pregnant. I still had two hearts. Now, I’m here.

Sitting alone in the silence of my house. A cold, gray, rainy morning.

My recovery has taken much longer than I expected. It’s taken a lot out of me physically, in a very big way. It’s like having had a mini birth. I was not prepared for that — at all.

I thought I’d have a slow weekend and be back at work with boundless energy come Monday. I am not ready for work. I am not feeling anywhere near myself.

I am overcome with emotion. And hormones. My body — my amazing, strong body that is going from pregnant to not pregnant. The toll that takes. Feeling so bad physically that I haven’t had time to think of the emotional aspect of losing someone that in a way I don’t even feel justified to mourn.

Look. I don’t understand The Plan half the time, People. I just don’t. But yet I know — Truth speaking — that there is a plan. And I trust The Plan.

I trust that all things are unfolding as they should be — I am not saying I agree with that and that it’s easy — because it sure as shit is not. But my faith and my truth tells me:

We can do hard things. Life itself is a hard thing. It’s also the most beautiful expression of love and beauty and pain and horror and we simply cannot have one without the other.

Life. No Life.

Baby. No baby.