In public, I have to remind myself not to stare when I see a pregnant body.

I try to keep my eyes on my book or journal, or stay focused on the conversation I’ve just lost track of (nodding when I should be gasping). If I’m with a good friend I can whisper, “look, pregnant.” If they are a good friend indeed, they will find a way to subtly turn to admire the person who walks amongst us, growing life. Magic and science tumble around the womb and here I sit- mouth agape as another person casually hands her coffee, or she puts on her sunglasses and continues her day.

The truth of it sits with me and always has- I want to surround myself and my life with pregnancy: yours, hers, theirs…maybe even my own one day. But for right now I’m teaching kindergarten. I’ll make a world of this one day.

Then, a stroke of luck: my friend’s wife is pregnant. She’s an open book, and one day she lifts her shirt to show me how her breasts have grown and how her nipples have darkened in anticipation for her child. She shakes her head and with fascination and disbelief says, “I didn’t even tell my body what to do.” When I’m with her she lets me rub her belly while she tells me how she wants to give birth. One night, I feel her baby kick and my heart bursts with joy. Finally! This is how I want to live! No averting my eyes, no denying the tears that swell! I am in the midst of pregnancy and motherhood and I am welcome. My calling settles over me.

In her last month of pregnancy I come over with a camera and we do a photo shoot. She dons a silk bathrobe and opens it wide, one hand tucked under her belly, holding her baby who she has yet to meet, but that she intimately knows. She holds herself with authority and grace and mesmerized, I click.