I knew someday that I would write what I’m about to write. That there would come a time when I would be married, Cohen would be older and I would become pregnant again.
Truthfully, many years ago, I was not sure if that would be with Zac, if I’d be almost forty desperately trying to conceive a child, or perhaps it would happen as it has. Being almost twenty four, married... cruising along in life.
I knew I would write about this someday because I have thought about it often. It ebbs and flows but truthfully it would rise up in me every moment I thought
Could this be the month?
Is it happening again for real?
I knew I would write about it someday because finding out I was pregnant with Cohen was a traumatic and dreadful experience. It was two days after Christmas in 06’ that I found I was pregnant with Cohen. I had been black out drunk the night before and confessed to my best friend in almost tears that I thought I was pregnant. I was a week late and I couldn’t bring myself to buy a test.
But I did.
So at barely nineteen, I took a pregnancy test in a stranger’s bathroom.
And at almost twenty four, I took a pregnancy test in my own bathroom.
In both cases, I bought the same kind of pregnancy test. I placed them on the bathtubs and turned around for a minute.
Both tests, positive. A little plus sign.
Yet the first time around, it was anything but positive. Breaking the news first to a best friend who was horrified, then to Zac who was numb and confused, then to my friends who felt sorry for me.
Then to my mom. Who asked me point blank if I was pregnant. I said yes. And with my honest confession she fell to the floor crying hysterically.
I watched as my mother held her face and rocked herself back and forth. Pained by her own heartache of a messy divorce and now her oldest most responsible child... pregnant...
I hated my pregnancy. I would pray at times that God would just give me a miscarriage so I wouldn’t have to endure anymore stares. Anymore explanations. Anymore fake smiles. Anymore pain.
I never took a prenatal vitamin with Cohen. I would ignore his kicks in the beginning. I spent nine months wishing I was anywhere but in my own body. Crying myself to sleep at night carrying a child I hated and hating myself for feeling that way.
This is what I thought about when I took a pregnancy test a week ago. When I smiled at the result and Cohen knocked on the door wanting to be apart of whatever I was doing. I thought about Cohen the entire time I held that pregnancy test. Feeling ashamed for all the moments I spent cursing his existence as he grew inside of me. I thought about Cohen when I called Zac and declared my jubilant news.
I thought about Cohen when my mom hugged me and smiled after I conveyed to her about the baby inside.
I struggled with feeling that I cheated Cohen out of something. That he deserved to be loved even from the moment he was conceived. I obviously can not go back to those moments but I relive them constantly in my mind. The first time I felt Cohen kick was in my dorm room with drunk kids flying in and out of the room. I sat in a corner by myself and felt him move inside of me. There was no one there who could share that moment with me.
It was just me and Cohen for the longest time. I felt this growing entity inside of me and learned how to live and love.
I let Cohen into the bathroom after I put the positive test on the shelf. I looked at him in all seriousness, picked him up and held him. I started to rub his back and he nuzzled into my neck. He pat my back as I rocked him back and forth. I was pregnant with another but I realized how deeply in love I had fallen in love with a child I never knew I could truly love.
Tears ran down my face as I told Cohen over and over of the precious gift he was to me. I told him that I loved being his mommy more than anything in the world.
And I meant it. I would do it all over and endure more pain if I had to for that little boy.
I’ve decided that though I will (and do) love this child growing inside me, Cohen will always have a special place in my heart.
He taught a barely nineteen year old how to grow up, to love herself, embrace responsibility and let go of idealistic expectations of life.
I rejoice in the coming of my new little one but feel that as I rejoice, I must also remember. Remember a bleak time in my life and the joy that came from it.
Grace has washed over me and engulfed me in it’s waves. Sinking never felt so good.