Butterflies

Yesterday, through the morning and afternoon, contractions hummed through my body. Jolts of pain swirling with delicious anticipation, like the clickety-clack of a car making its way up the roller coaster rise, each thump a rung closer to the top, to that moment when the vista becomes wider than it seems possible, your senses are heightened and you prepare for the exhilaration, the whoosh of air, wind and sun upon you as never before.

The keyboard before me filled with words - a press release, a blog entry, an email response. A daughter. The pressure came again and I was reminded of her, the swell of my belly reaching beyond my lap and resting upon the nubby blue cushion. My hands slipped down and settled upon the taut expanse of cotton, my belly was hard, the choreography of it all made me weak.

40 weeks to a life. My body, once something I fought, now a thing of wonder. The contraction faded and her legs swirled, like a young child making the most of the last dip in the water.

Look, watch me do it. One more time. Watch me spin, mama.

I am watching, sweet one. And waiting. Mama can't wait to wrap you in her arms, but I'll wait while you swim a little longer.