At His Mercy

44

Each day passes in uncertainty. There is no doubt about that. But the fear seems to be waning and we are beginning to let in the hope, the excitement feels alien and foreign and wrong, but i feel it creeping in. Like sand shifting under our feet.
I'm afraid to be happy, to let myself think of the future.
Some days it feels a lot like guilt. Those are days I feel like I can't be around people. I can't pretend I am glad for the company or fuss. On those days I can't bear to see any baby things. The door of the freshly painted nursery stays shut. The anxiety is too painful and i know my head is not in the right place. I need to focus on other things. Even music can't fill the void inside.
On those days I find myself walking in the garden, listening to an Audiobook or sitting in front of the Pollack. Calmer, I let the doubt seep away and let myself fill up with the here and now. Be present in the moment.
Adam doesn't fully understand, i know this because he wants to get things ready for the baby, discuss names and talk about the future, my hesitancy worries him, but he is patient. He tells me 10 times each day he loves me and then tells the baby he loves it. I want to rely on his love and optimism, he says he has enough for both of us.  More than anything, i want him to be right.
Some nights we lie in bed and just look at each other. I feel his strength, it's in everything he does. His touch, his words, his eyes. In the indigo light I can see his smile. Eyes glistening in the darkness. The distance between us seems to move. He's warm and touchable -within reach, but then I find a little bit of me doesn't trust him, that part of me is broken and no matter how hard i try to believe everything is going to be ok and that I have to be in this relationship 100%, I know deep down I'm scared to invest everything in this relationship.
This life growing inside me is a miracle. It's part of Adam, too. I think of what was and what may be and there is a huge fog of uncertainty that hangs in front of me.
His touch should be reassuring, it should comfort me. Some times it does. But tonight I am alone with my fears. A typhoon of worries, what ifs. But the worst of them all is the question of whether I'm making an awful fool of myself again. My heart is treacherous. It wants the happily ever after, its wants the family and the home and all the trimmings. My mind is like a disgruntled old spinster. Wrapping it's gnarled fingers around my heart and squeezing intensely. Trying to shake it awake, to see the reality it refuses to face. That happy endings don't exist. No matter how much I try to deny that voice, deny the warning- I can't ignore it completely.
So here I am smiling through the anxiety, duplicitous to the core, even to myself. Waiting for the whole thing to come crashing down around me.
Maybe it is my self destructive nature. I dont think things will work out, so I'm secretly expecting it all to end. Some twisted self fulfilling prophecy.
Adam seems relaxed. Sometimes he looks at me with wonder and I'm not sure it makes any sense. I dont understand what he sees. How he can be so relaxed and reassured in this situation- that everything will be okay. He has this endless pool of optimism and trust. Sometimes a cynical voice inside me mocks him for being so naive. It resents the easy manner with which he has this blinding faith that all is well and will end well.
Then there are times when I wake up with his arms around me, feel the strength in them and know that I'm being unreasonable. That I've been given a second chance. A blessing.
So I'm in limbo. In a perpetual state of  trepidation as I wait helplessly to discover the inevitable conclusion.