They say there's something about expecting and having a child that changes you. Changes you at some fundamental level, which makes you as new as that life you participated in creating. Your old life is over and a new one begins.
Now, don't get me wrong, there's a lot of newness. However, I'm finding this period of life to be the continuation of decisions made long ago. I left behind the partying me long ago and began to gather with my community in a richer way. I no longer drink. Domestic chores like washing dishes and cooking for my beautiful partner settle my mind and bring me a peace that I can't explain. I've never been more ready to be a father. I've never wanted anything more.
I'm finding no need to shift my priorities to welcome Ravechild (working title for the babe that dances all night long in mama's belly) into this world. Perhaps it's because I took to looking deep into my life many years ago. Maybe all that spiritual searching, and the inevitable shedding of superficial crap that accompanied it, led me to that new beginning early. And maybe that's why I don't fear what is to come.
That quest for self-knowledge taught me to love life's hard lessons. I've grown to appreciate the gut-wrenching opportunities for reinvention that life always seems to offer up. Perhaps that's why, when my palm is on her belly, and a miracle turns beneath it, the joy meets me where I already am: a seeker of light, facing light.
It could be that it's different when this is something that you've worked hard for. When you and your partner, chart cycles, take steps to encourage fertility, and engage in the most important work of all: abandoning yourselves to each other in an ever deepening love. And maybe everyone's capacity for love is different. And maybe some folks are expecting something else out of life besides, well, life. But for me this is the deepest calling. For me, this is an honour that dwarfs any other worldly accomplishment.