The other day, our Zumba instructor informed us all she's pregnant. She was beaming from ear to ear and had that pregnant glow everyone talks about. She was so innocent.
I've been thinking about that so much recently. As I stared at her, wondering whether I could handle the next hour staring at her belly, I gritted my teeth at the idea that I'll never again have that glow. I'll never have that innocence. So today I was thinking, what would I do with it, if I could have my innocence all over again?
First, I'd hold every tiny baby I could get my hands on. I'd act so nonchalant, unaware how miraculous it is statistically that this child is living in the first place.
I would squeal with excitement every time a woman told me she was pregnant. I wouldn't calculate her odds or wonder if she'd be interested to know.
I would whine about every little ache, every surge of heartburn, and tell my son to hustle up out of there.
I would worry if people thought Carpenter's name was silly, because he might get laughed at.
I would pack away my children's ultrasounds, sure I wouldn't have any interest in seeing them until they were grown and had moved out.
I would shy from my friends who lost babies.
I would cry for the woman who lost her baby and wonder what she had done wrong. (I feel sick just writing that, wondering if people blame me for what happened.)
Without my innocence, I am a different woman. And I look at the world differently. I look at life differently. I am learning to live without it, but I still yearn for the innocence lost not six months ago.
"And should I at your harmless innocence melt, as I do" - Paradise Lost, Milton
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