Beam On

The weight of my tribulations lightens as I conceptualize the baby as a return of Good to my life.  I keep touching my abdomen in awe, sure I can feel the fluttering movements of life already. 
I try to refrain from thinking too much about names or a nursery. And we still haven’t told more than a handful of people. I am standing on the edge of cliff… so happy, so afraid.

At 2:50 PM every weekday for the remaining three weeks of my radiation treatment, I lay on a table with my left arm above my head and with seven lead blankets covering my abdomen. The discomfort of their weight gives me a heavy sense of protection. I curl my thumb inside my fist and ask God to wrap his hand around my baby each of the three times the radiation beam comes on.
After the techs have left the room and the red light on the wall flashes "beam on," I am whispering to God and to my baby. I think we're going to be okay.

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