Kick, roll, jab…
Tumble, turn, flip…
What are you doing in there?
I wish I could help make you more comfortable. Is it better when I bring my knees up? Do you have more space now? Is it better on my side? On my back?
You are so, so strong, and you’re so small. Less than a foot long, they say. But you are so alive and active. Your mama is so proud of you, already. I am so proud and amazed that I can barely ever sleep, even if I could sleep through your gymnastics.
Of course, night time is your most favorite time to wiggle like this.
I am anxious to see your face, with my widow’s peak and your papa’s cleft chin, but I’m getting to know you, starting now.
You are a prince. You are a gentle man in miniature. You are full of the same proverbial “piss and vinegar” your grampa always said I was full of. You are restless, like your papa. And like your mama in the sense that you will not be ignored.
For these next few, brief months, I am holding you as close as I ever will again as long as we live. I intend to relish every moment and somersault.
I love you, mancub.
Mama xoxo
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