A new karmic cycle, tears in my bicerin, and florence and the machine's new album 🎄

On Saturday, we took a beautiful day trip to Torino. We went to the car museum, checked out the royal library, ate some dope agnolotti, and went vintage shopping. Torino is known for chocolate, so we waited in line to try a fancy drinking chocolate layered with foamy cream and espresso called bicerin.

We sat outside the chocolate shop on a bench, and a young woman was busking and playing the violin. I was feeling so happy, sipping my chocolate with my husband, and I started singing along, especially when the Little Mermaid’s “Part of Your World” came on (love a Disney sing-along). I started processing this song, about a girl who has “everything” - but not the one thing she really wants. She feels excluded from this elite club, where people have life experiences she never gets to have with her mermaid tail. When the line “when’s it my turn?” came up, tears sprang from my cheeks like a sudden burst in the pipes. I was hit in the face with the reality that my journey to become a mother, which has taken nine years, is nearly complete. I had wanted to be in this seemingly exclusive club - the motherhood club - for so long, giving up hope, trying again, putting myself out there, and now it’s almost my turn. My friends are lending me books to read and nursing pillows, other moms are recommending doulas and lactation consultants, I’m finally invited to prenatal yoga, and soon enough I’ll be holding a physical, earth-side baby.

I’ve been experiencing some “survivor’s guilt” after fertility challenges and baby loss. Many people do all the things I did and never make it to their third trimester of pregnancy. I don’t want to flaunt my perceived success because I know the pain it can inflict on others who might feel left behind.

But then, I look at my own journey, and find myself pushing to be selfish. How much “good” feels safe for me is a question of neuroscience. I’m trying not to self-sabotage myself, and I noticed that all this abundance feels a little dangerous for me.

Right now, I have almost everything I’ve always wanted.

I live in a place that values high-quality food, and I eat very healthy, nutritious food for little money.

I have a writing practice that fuels my creativity.

I get to speak a new language every day and study Italian.

I have a lot of flexibility in my job and great benefits, which allows me to focus on my family and my hobbies.

I get to easily travel to places I love and experiment with new foods, languages, art, and books, and meet people from all over the world.

I am healthy and pregnant with a child I dreamed about for many years after struggling and suffering with serious fertility-related health issues.

I have a family who loves me. Friends who care about me. A husband whom I’m genuinely in love with more and more every day.

I have a beautiful, safe home with a VIEW OF THE OCEAN.

Can I let myself enjoy this time of abundance and fruitfulness, when everything seems to be going my way?

I work with spiritual coach to process weekly tarot reflections that prompt my journaling. In the past few weeks, the messages have been about ending a nine-year cycle of suffering (which comes from numerology - 2+0+2+5 = 9, and “Year 9” signifies completion, endings, and spiritual growth) and focusing on upleveling. My ears have been perked, because this is the exact amount of time that has passed since I first realized I felt ready to be a mom. I relate to the sensation of being on the cusp of something big.

Catherine quoted Roya Darling, who says, “When we reach our upper limit of what we believe we’re worth, we start self-sabotaging”. Have I reached my upper limit? Or do I believe I’m worthy of my truly extraordinary life? Self-sabotaging for me looks like anxiety and worry instead of clarity, presence, and fun.

Catherine’s suggestion is to take the last few months of the year to really enjoy all you’ve created and start taking action towards your next karmic uplevel. I interpret this as celebrating the sweetness of this pregnancy and preparing myself for my new role as a mother of an earthside baby. When the Little Mermaid reminds me of the grief I’ve experienced over the past nine years, I can give myself a hug, let it go, and look forward to my next chapter, walking on my own two feet.

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