Today, for the second time ever, I got to do one of my favorite things -- I got to see my tiny unborn child inside of me. Science, man. Science! Thank you science people! I got to see a perfectly formed, tiny human swirling and twirling around inside of my body. Perfect hands, feet, four chambers of a perfect heart, a spine, a brain, the amazing place where the umbilical cord connects us...I got to see it all. And marvel. And guess at the gender. I was in awe of the whole experience, and I remarked to the kind ultrasound tech how astounded I was, being able to see this, again. She said, "I've been doing this for thirty years, and each time I think it's a miracle." Indeed.
Which got me thinking...are we any less miraculous now, because we are no longer unborn? I don't think so. You, reader, are a MIRACLE. You and I both started out just like this little person inside of me, we defied insurmountable odds to be here, and yet...here we are. Here. Alive. Doing things. Sometimes miraculous things. Like making other people. And crafting ginormous televisions.
And so, I've got all these big feelings, big thoughts, big BIG stuff rolling around in my brain while I go about the rest of my day preparing for our gender reveal party and Grace's birthday party. Tonight's Thursday-- CHOIR NIGHT BABY -- and marveled at the pink and purple sunset as I got into my car. Feelings, guys. Lots of them. Sunsets, babies, songs....we're singing "Lullabye" by James Taylor and EVERY TIME it makes me cry. Including tonight. Tonight there were actual tears. I tried to be discreet. It was embarrassing. And then, it was time for the Gershwin medley, and lo and behold, I start the whole piece off with a little jazzy a-capella-y solo. Now, this is not really my normal MO, I'm more of a sit-in-silent-judgment-of-the-other-brave-singers type of gal. But, I'm the soloist on this one, so I wiped my tears, and for the first time in front of people, I sang my few little bars of Gershwin. And. I. Sucked. Oh man, I thought when it was over. How did I suck so much? Everyone's silence was so... judgmental. My nose was runny. That was stupid and I sucked. Shit. I sucked! Am I going to ruin the whole concert? I hate sucking.
And then I checked my phone and had a message from Eric that I took the wrong car, the one with the car seat, to choir so he and Grace weren't able to run the errands for the party like they had planned. FOR REAL? Get your head out of the sunset pregs, and pay attention! I suck. I suck. I suck. I suck.
And then, Jr gave me a swift kick in the navel and I was reminded -- I'm doing something miraculous here. I'm still a miracle. I have two spines in me right now. And two hearts. Maybe that's why I'm such a hot mess of emotions. Do you suck right now too? Who cares! Let's suck together and then stand up and try again because we defy the odds, all day every day. All the odds. Defied. Just by existing. Gershwin will be there to tackle another day. We should not, we cannot be afraid to fall on our faces and make big, huge, stupid mistakes because we have nothing to lose. Our very existence is miraculous.
People were kind to me after my attempt at singing and said things like, "nice solo!" and I got to look them in the eye and say, "No it wasn't," and we got to laugh together, and that helped me to stand up and remember it's good to try again. Do you suck right now? Did you fail today? That's okay, because at the core of everything, you, reader, are a miracle. You have limitless potential. Limitless second chances to learn the real lessons. Take it from me. Today I got to see how we all start out. Tiny, swirly, connected. Miraculous.
