A time where you can wake up every day in your body and not recognize anything. A time full of angles and perspectives that shift so fast you can’t keep up with your own geometry. One minute, you’re sure life has changed but can’t see how. The next minute, every mirror you pass is a challenge to remember that you are still yourself underneath that shifting sphere. You wake up feeling you’ll never be the same, and go to bed with a foreboding sense that soon enough, your bones will feel that normal, lonely, individualism again, carrying nothing but their own weight.
I am “us”, but only for a moment. Then you will be you, and I will be some form of “me” again. And I’ll spend my whole life trying to get as close to you as I am now. And I’m guessing that chase will involve more aches and pains, more sleepless nights, and more absurd side effects. I’m praying it will also involve more moments where you stop me from whatever I’m doing and I think, “don’t move, he’s right there.”
Here’s to pregnancy.
Photos by Taylor Sporleder