Growing Gift

To donate. What is it to donate? To give something. Up. To give away. Let go. A gift. For someone to receive. Really receive. Take in. An exchange. What if the gift has been asked for? How does that change the giving. The receiving. Several months ago, I donated a part of myself, and she is pregnant. Third time lucky. Past the first trimester now. She is pregnant. Not us. Not we. I am a donor. Giving up. Giving away. Something of me. And now it grows. Not part of me. Not part of us. There is no us. Us is here. Wife. Family. Home. To give something that grows. Changes. Lives. Breathes. Thinks. Feels. We aren't used to giving away something living, someone that evolves. SomeOne. A person. Giving away a person. Half a person. And what could be more beautiful. And complicated. Simple. And confusing. Joyous. And conflicting. And what am I then? In that unknown future? A donor. A gift-giver. Connected and Not. Not attached. There at times. Aware. A presence. Supportive. And not. And who am I then? Who am I to that person? In their mind? Complicated. And not. And who is Mary then? Wife of a donor. What role then? What sense of place for her? Truly giving, she is in fact the one donating. Giving up control. Letting go. Not her child. Not his child. And yet from him. Who are we to own each other? Mine. My precious. Not mine. And what is it to send yourself out into the world? Out of my control. My domain. My reach. My influence. And yet, he is a part of me. He is under my influence. My genetic reach. My biology. Or she is. And so I celebrate. And contemplate. Laugh and cry. I sit in contradiction. And not. I have given Life. Something so powerful. So beautiful. It seems impossible not to. Someone who will give so much joy and love. And stories. All that we are made of really. The fabric that holds us all together. Generosity of spirit. What more is there to give.