Feeling the kick

Tonight I had my friend, Jenny, over for dinner. I picked her up, drove her over. I had dinner ready to cook, so I simply turned on the burners and was in business. I made Alfredo chicken (it was the best I've ever made), mixed veggies and wild/brown rice. And of course, ice cream for dessert.

Every Sunday at church, Jenny and I sit together. For almost two years now. She was one of the first people to introduce themselves to me at the church and since then, we've always just kind of small talk-ed before and after church.

Jenny and I have a lot in common. I always liked her at church but tonight was the first time I've ever really gotten to talk with her, one on one. We have so much in common it was almost frightening. She would say things and it was as though she was reading my mind... seeing my inner self... and not necessesarily the good side of me either. Sometimes discovering that someone has much in common with you is good. In this case, it was almost intrusive.

Jenny is pregnant (something we do not have in common). She is due in about five weeks. We talked alot about the baby. About the father who left. About the choice she made in keeping it, seeing as though she is only 20 years old. About her family's reactions. We talked about abortion and miscarriages. We talked about boyfriends, rape, protection (or lack of). We talked a lot of "what ifs." She said, with tired eyes, "I CAN'T wait until you're pregnant! You're going to be one of those thin mommies who looks like she's carrying the sate of Montana in their bellies." I told her that I, on the other hand, COULD wait to be pregnant.

After dinner we brought out the Bible. We had a small Bible study. I haven't been able to talk so freely in a long while. We ate icecream and while she talked, her icecream melted. Then she lay down on the carpet and allowed me to put my hand on her belly.

It was very intimate. There were three of us in the room, though only two clearly visiable. She turned giddy when the baby inside her moved, "She's living!" she would say, as a ripple would move across my palm. It would kick and I would exclaim, "Oh, I want to see her little face-y, come out now, baby!"

And Jenny would laugh. And I would laugh. And then a silence would surround the three of us. The same silence that seemed to say, "I'm sorry for your circumstances, but so glad you have been blessed with this new life."