Growing on the inside

As of today, I'm 13 weeks pregnant.

What's growing on the inside already has functioning limbs, teeth sitting ready in gums, and fully formed eyes; sealed tightly behind perfect lids. Mind blowing.

This next season of liminality, living in the shifting change of now-but-not-yet, has so far brought little of the romantic, brooding introspection I'd imagined. Maybe that's a gift of a first pregnancy when one isn't already a part-time parent. Maybe it's just in the movies.

I'm dreaming more. A smattering of terrifyingly real nightmares amongst the gloriously bizarre; eating a restaurant owned by Jack White, before walking home and realising I'd accidentally left without paying... and I'm only wearing one shoe.

My belly remains the same shape it always has. People have started to wonder aloud if I'm showing, but I think that's only the same me that 10 years ago prompted a sweet man to give up his seat on a boiling hot Tube for entirely mistaken reasons. I took the seat then as I take the pats now; with a smile on the outside and a mixture of embarrassment, seething resentment, and genuine amusement within.

Fresh Breeze

She'd come home
Giddy with occasion
And open every window
To the frigid night sky
"Letting the New Year in"

Her flurry of movement
All petticoats and perm
Wafting the zest and strength
Held within her tiny frame
Like the very breath of spring

As I work the blade into the painted seals
Of windows she'd never see
It's that spirit I'm clawing to invite
Longing to throw open every window
And let her in