When I saw that today's prompt was Three, the photo I wanted to take instantly popped into my mind. It was followed by this thought: You can't do that. That's what normal pregnant people do.
This may sound strange, but even at seven months pregnant I still feel infertile. And from what I've heard from others, I will for a long time. That pain, that longing, that fear, that jealousy and resentment--I think (I hope) it will fade into a memory someday. But right now it is lodged in my body as deeply as my son is. A live thing that kicks, twists, and punches right alongside him.
And yet there is still so much room for joy. I've denied it because I am afraid I don't deserve it. I'm afraid that if I embrace it, it will disappear. Life is so damn fragile. It's uncertain, unstable, ever-shifting. You can lose everything in a single second. And when I think about it like that, it seems silly not to celebrate the moment.
He didn't come as quickly as I wanted him to. He sure as hell didn't come as easily. But he is coming. He is almost here.