What if everything falls into place?

building a life based on trust

The first few months of my pregnancy were filled with concerns. My cancer and chemo treatments left me with pervasive medical anxiety and a foreboding sense that something is always wrong, underneath the surface. With every little symptom that seemed off, I was certain the baby was gone. I couldn’t feel him anymore (which, of course you can’t in the first few months, but I swore I couldn’t sense him either).

When I did allow myself to feel joy, because holy shit did I feel joy and awe for this baby we really really want, it was often accompanied by foreboding. It was all too easy and lucky to work out like this. My body had proven to be a mystery to me in the past and complicit in hiding an enormous issue.

It did not actually occur to me until my midwife said this during one of my early pregnancy visits. We were discussing my medical history and how I felt the lymph nodes and went to the doctor to get them checked out.

Three simple words, “You noticed it.”

She said it in passing, but it stuck with me. She was right. While I thought, at the time, my body was hiding something from me, it was also precisely what noticed. It wasn’t a doctor or a scan or another person who first recognized something was wrong. It was my own self.

So perhaps I could trust my body after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to allow the joy to envelop me, even if there was pain later. Since then, I’ve moved through my second trimester with that perspective.

What if it all works out?

I’ve found, increasingly, that while there are certainly echos in this medical experience of the other one that marks my recent memories—even in small things like the smells of the soaps in the hospital, blood draws, weighing, questions about fatigue, and even the epidural machine which is a twin brother to the one that infused my chemo medications—I’m finding this experience to be quite different.

A couple of weeks ago, I was cleaning out my then-yoga room/library to make a place for the baby’s room and things. For him to start building his own life and telling us over the years who he is. I started pulling down framed art from the wall that I brought back from Rishikesh and my yoga teacher training, now more than five years ago. I took a few out of the frames to make space for new photos.

One was a small postcard of the goddess Kali. I flipped it over to find writing on the back. Typed below: “Goddess Kali is also known as Adya, the first born. In the ignorant, she creates fear, while for others Kali removes the fear of death.”

And, above, something my yoga instructor must have written at the time:

Live your life as if everything is rigged in your favour.

Which, upon further investigation, is a Rumi quote.

It’s a challenging sentiment when you think about it on a systemic level, when so much is clearly not rigged in the favor of so many. Especially at a time like this.

But on a personal level, it rang true against something inside me.

I am aware, alert, and healthy. My body surprises me that it already knows how to assemble a whole person without instruction. I have so many choices to make about how the process of birth will look for me, at least for now. I am in a privileged position with good healthcare insurance and a great medical team of midwives and doulas.

And what I feel, mostly, is not crippling medical anxiety. It’s trust in myself and something that oscillates between a longing and belief that there is something good coming.

That everything, or at least this thing, might be rigged in my favor. And maybe it’s exactly when things are the darkest that it’s critical we allow that unencumbered joy to envelop us when we come across it. To trust there is truth in joy too.

What I’m loving right now:

• What my Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma by Stephanie Foo, an exceptional memoir about the author’s experience with childhood abuse and complex trauma and her healing journey (many trigger warnings for those who have had a similar experience).

• Inside Out & Back Again by Thanhhà Lai, a middle-reader book in poems from the perspective of a young Vietnamese girls fleeing to the United States. I couldn’t put it down.

• Jane Addams Children’s Book Award 2025 Winner & Honors Books if you’re looking for an incredibly impactful list of young- and middle-aged reader books for kids and adults alike.

• Armoire clothing rental—since a number of you utilized this last month I’m sharing again. This is a woman-owned company that rents clothing of all shapes and sizes monthly, I enjoyed it pre-pregnancy as a way to buy fewer clothes and create less fabric waste and have found it’s one of the best for maternity too. You can use my referral code (rachelv14) for 50% off.