Jordan and I met in high school. I knew from the moment I saw him that we had a connection; being a shy, boy-averse teenager, I didn’t act on that instinct for years, but I knew. In fact, I have a journal entry to prove it. I was going to the homecoming dance with someone else (even boy-averse girls who were terrified of flirting got asked out, apparently, in my group of friends), and I wrote in my journal, “I don’t really connect with John. I think I’d connect with Jordan Hirsch.” We’d never even exchanged “hellos,” and yet, I knew.
This past weekend we celebrated the 18th anniversary of our first kiss (exchanged, furtively, backstage, on opening night of our high school’s production of Guys and Dolls), and I am still as giddily in love with him as ever. I bask in his presence. I am grateful every single day that I get to share my life with him…for the joy of his companionship, and for the peace that comes from feeling understood down to the farthest reaches of my soul. Just writing that sentence fills me with awe, that I’m lucky enough to be so understood, so accepted and loved for exactly who I really, truly am.
Last week I wrote about my fear that having a baby will interfere with this love affair… and then I wrote about my faith, which runs deeper than fear, that anything born of our love will be a positive thing.
I think maybe I resisted the idea of having a child for so many years because I felt the need to protect our relationship, like precious cargo. It’s a natural instinct, I guess, to want to protect that which we hold most dear. But as I prepare to become a mother, I need to remember that holding onto something tightly is rarely as powerful as letting go.
People keep saying, “Once your daughter is born, you’ll finally know true love.” This pisses me off. I know true love — I know it well. Intellectually, I can understand that the love we are going to feel for her is going to be off the charts… that it will knock us off our feet. But until she arrives, that’s just an idea.
Faith is a funny thing. For now, my faith that she will expand our hearts, and our worlds, remains a conceptual faith — something I want to believe very badly, and that I trust deep down is true, but I don’t KNOW it. She’s a leap of faith, and we’re still in free-fall. In the meantime, sitting across the room from me as I write this is a man who has made my life better every single day for the past 18 years. My faith in him, and in our love, is the most certain thing in my world.