I was sitting in bed during a power outage recently, amazed at how still, how quiet, how dark it can all be. There isn't a moment when I'm not moving, whether physically or mentally. I'm a busy person, an extremist, a "go-getter."
I hate that instead of palming my belly to feel movement of a life, I fingertip-explore my body for lumps of danger. I hate that it will always be possible that there is something wrong, and it will never be that kind of right again.