This is the Ma . The sacred pause.
I remember the pain of the first birth. I remember the moment the contractions stopped being “waves” and started being a house falling on my spine. I remember the kanji on the hospital wall that I couldn’t read, and the nurse who spoke only Japanese, and the terrifying moment when I realized I had to translate my own moans.
The world has become very small.
If you are reading this from a coffee shop in London, or a living room in New York, or a similar apartment in Osaka—take a breath. The waiting is the labor, too. The waiting is the work.
This is my second pregnancy in Japan. You would think the second time is easier. You would be wrong. It is not harder, necessarily. It is deeper . Just before the birth again- Japan- Pregnant- U...
There is only the pause.
But just before the birth again, there is this. A quiet room in Japan. A full belly. A heart that is breaking and healing in the same beat. This is the Ma
The first time, everything was a checklist. Pack the bag. Install the car seat (which, in Tokyo, means wrestling a bassinet onto a bicycle). Learn the Japanese words for epidural ( takumaigai zentai ma sui —a mouthful of consonants when you are in transition). The first birth was a sprint toward the unknown, fueled by anxiety and the naïve bravery of a beginner.
That is the miracle of the second birth. You are not just bringing a child into the world. You are bringing a sibling. You are exploding one universe to create a larger one. I remember the moment the contractions stopped being
Let’s not romanticize it too much. I am scared.
In a few days, I will no longer be pregnant. I will be a mother of two. The house will smell of formula and laundry detergent. The toddler will have a meltdown. The baby will cry.