As day dips into night, I am sitting at the table sipping tea with a friend. She is telling me about her busy life and the stress that accompanies it. She is mumbled and jumbled and even seems a bit sad. Her mind is running rampant with thoughts. Her face is distraught with the weight of the world lying solely upon her. She shifts uncomfortably on the wooden chair as her bulging belly overpowers her body. She is hunched over and exhausted. She is afraid of the morning. For in the morning her floating ship begins to sink, again. Her husband will leave for work and her two-year-old will triumphantly rule her day. Every minute. Every second. She will wonder what she is doing wrong. How she can possibly handle all of the things being thoughtlessly thrown at her. She is drowning in her own life. Is there a way to make it easier?
I tell her to take a deep breath. I inhale and exhale with her. We do it together, again. And again and again. I ask her if she would have it any other way.
I see a smile suddenly take hold of her. Her eyes brighten and her body perks up. She gently embraces her belly and twitches in delight as she runs her hands over the blossoming life growing inside her. She glimpses down in reflection for a moment and returns with resilient honesty.
Thank you, she says. Maybe this sounds sort of crazy, but my answer is no.