In That Instant – Creation

When my husband and I found out we were expecting, we did as many other couples do and decided not to tell anyone about the pregnancy until after the first trimester. The most dangerous time for a pregnancy is the first twelve weeks, when approximately twenty percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage. We felt prudent keeping our loved ones from getting too excited about a new addition to the family until we reached the twelve week milestone.
For a while it was fun to have this secret between us. It was thrilling just to say, “We’re having a baby,” and watch how the burst of exciting emotions transformed the most ordinary experiences. But it wasn’t long before the secret launched us into an intense period of isolation. For me, the symptoms of early pregnancy set in and I became nauseous and tired. I expended energy making sure this wasn’t visible to those around me, but I was never sure of my success. Do people see me hiding a yawn? Falling asleep? Turning green? Family visited, but we were cut off from the wisdom of their experience. We avoided speaking with out of town family, too, so we wouldn’t have to struggle to answer the question, “What’s new?” Sadness, fear, and loneliness took hold.

One morning I felt particularly fatigued as I sat at my desk. Unable to focus my eyes on my computer screen, I lifted my head and noticed the painting Delda Skinner, MAPM, ’99, had recently hung in the Booher Library gallery. The painting, called In That Instant – Creation, illustrated the fraction of time in which creation took place. To me, the fiery explosion of vibrant colors looked like it hurt.
It looked exactly like I felt.
Relief set in as I suddenly felt connected to God and all living things through the miracle of creation – the creation of art and the creation of life. How long had I been invited to participate in the miracle of creation without even realizing it? I thought of the clothespin reindeer that hung on our Christmas tree, the one I kept pointing out to my husband, saying proudly, “I made that in kindergarten.”
Something changed for me in that instant. I craved more of this feeling of interconnectedness. I began to share my news – with a friend I could trust, with a student at the seminary who was also expecting, with strangers on the street. Slowly I reconnected with my fellow humans. Finally others were sharing in my experience and that sharing is continuing today.
Now and then I wonder how the first few months of pregnancy would have been different if I had been more open about what I was experiencing. Rather than dwell on past choices as the New Year begins, I’ll reflect instead on the way the process of creation can extend a bridge to others and connect us with the presence of God we find in community.
Are you burdened by a secret?
How does art connect you to the divine?
What are you creating today?
 
Alison Poage is the Director of the Harold and Patricia Booher Library at Seminary of the Southwest.