Serendipitous

It started last year, in May. I was walking to the T, rounding the corner near my local Whole Foods Market, when I was struck with such a powerful and forceful thought I nearly stopped in my tracks. I hadn't been thinking about much of anything really, and then suddenly my brain was completely flooded with thoughts about my friend Megan and nothing else. Meg was pregnant, due soon. Slightly unnerved, I shook my head and kept walking toward the T. I need to shoot her an email when I get into the office, I thought to myself. I arrived at work about thirty minutes later to find an email waiting. It was from her husband, announcing the birth of their son. He had arrived in the world just an hour or so earlier. At almost exactly the same time I'd been walking past that grocery store.

I check Facebook during the work week, usually in the mornings when I'm settling in at my desk for the day. I do not make it a habit to check it after work hours, rarely am I on during the evenings or weekends. Last November, during the week my friend Beth was due, I thought of her often. She was on Facebook a lot, answering comments about how she was doing, and I checked in every morning. If she posted something, I knew their baby had not arrived yet. One evening, long after I'd logged onto Facebook for the last time that day, I was sitting on the couch channel surfing. Like a bolt of lightening, some force told me to check her Facebook page. She had not posted any comments or replied to wall posts in several hours. I sent her a message guessing it was *labor time* and wishing her well. Later in the week, she wrote me and told me I'd written her at almost the exact time of her son's birth.

My friend Hilde was pregnant this spring. She was due in the beginning of June but, thanks to a few complications during her pregnancy, was worried they might have to induce her early. I went to visit her one Sunday afternoon; we walked around her neighborhood, sipped cups of mint tea on her porch. She was due to go to the doctor's office the next morning; she was nervous that by the next evening she'd have given birth. I gave her a hug, told her to try not to worry, that she would be in good hands. She promised she'd update me. Nervous to press for details, I left her alone the following week. I didn't call, text, or email. I just waited, thinking about her occasionally throughout my days. Two weeks later, I was walking from the office copy machine back to my desk, when, like a ton of bricks, the urge to email Hilde and check in hit me. I sat down at my desk and immediately fired off a quick note. Hilde replied a few hours later, telling me she'd actually given birth to a healthy and beautiful baby girl that very morning.

I had not seen my friend Emily since the start of her second trimester. I knew she was due in the later part of June, but couldn't quite remember her exact due date. A few weekends ago, during an epic Words With Friends game on our Iphones, I messaged her sister to ask is she was an auntie yet or what. She replied, telling me that Emily had actual given birth that morning to a healthy and happy little girl. I got a text and photo confirming this fabulous news from Emily herself several hours later.

I worry that by connecting these dots, by acknowledging this odd phenomenon that has occurred on multiple occasions over the past thirteen months or so I'll break the spell. And yet, these connections seem too wild, too powerful, too coincidental to ignore. The older I get, the more I learn, and with every day that passes in my life, I firmly believe that the universe sets us up for things. I may not - nay, certainly don't - understand its logic most of the time but every once in a while I catch a glimpse, I see a sliver of a nod, that I interpret as an acknowledgment.

We really, truly could be all in this together.