As I slammed on the brakes, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror hoping the car speeding up behind me would stop in time, I uttered these words aloud:
“White light surrounds and protects us.“
That last word caught me by surprise. For years I have repeated, “White light surrounds and protects me,” any time I have sensed danger, a left over relic of my childhood. However, when I said us today, without even thinking about it, I realized this baby is already real to me, in very much the same way she has been real all week in my dreams, her infant body pressed against my bare skin.
And, yes, in the dreams she is a girl, although I’m trying not to take that too seriously in hopes of not giving my potential son a complex…
But, back to the point of this rambling. At even a sesame seed-sized promise, our baby is already real to me, even as I wait on bated breath for more weeks to pass before allowing myself to become too attached, whatever that means. All life deserves care, nurturing, and love, whether it lasts a century or mere weeks. Today it hit me that attachment is okay, good even.
Of course, I’m hoping for the century.