There Is A Tree In Paradise

"... And the pilgrims call it the Tree of Life..."

-Nick Drake

Thirty-three weeks. For thirty-three weeks he has made my body his home. My belly is his paradise. I often catch myself daydreaming trying to create this perfect image in my head. I find it difficult to get much further than the fringes of my newly protruding bellybutton. "A miracle." I say this over and over to myself as I watch his tiny elbows and knees create highlights on the surface of my skin. It seems as if he tries desperately to communicate with my fingertips. He is so unbelievably strong. Even his hiccups can create such ripples that they display themselves with guile from underneath my many layers of clothing. His father's voice soothes him.

We are all anxious on the outside. I create to make time easy passing, but even the hand-sewn birds dangling from mobile strings steal glances from the ceiling as if to ask, "is it time?" Seven weeks. I will thank God for them all.