Sunday, July 6, 2008

18 1/2

The baby can now see. The book says the baby's eyes are so sensitive that if I shine a flashlight at my belly, the baby will flinch and try to hide. I imagine flashing a sort of Morse code in: an I need you to be good, an I promise I'll try, an I'm sorry I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, a hush baby, an I love you, sweet one. When we went in for the ultrasound at thirteen weeks, the baby sucked on its pinky. So strange to have a child growing in me, sucking its pinky, ducking from light. I feel fat and happy and wish I only felt happy and even for that I'm sorry: I don't want to be so selfish now. Driving these Oklahoma roads, the wind rushes in, and the baby moves. The moving feels like someone running their finger along a freshly healed cut; I shudder then long for it to happen again. Now, I'll take us to bed where it's dark and cool--my mother's bed in my mother's house though she's left for the night to drive to work at a faraway hospital--, and there, on the pillows that smell the way my mother smells, we'll sleep--my baby and me--where the only sound is the clicking of the fan and the only light is the one that will come in the morning.


mamabird said...

when harper moved inside me it felt the way my palm tickles when i run it over the top blades of grass. you are beautiful. did you know that i have seven girlfriends who are pregnant right now? needless to say, i'm not drinking the tap water. love you.

Anonymous said...

it only gets better

Andrea Luttrell said...

You know, Texas is very close to Oklahoma. And we like babies. And Nicoles. Dropping in is always welcome. Just sayin'

little miss mel said...

lovely post.

it's quite an oddity to have something growing inside of you. never quite got my brain around it.

Go T-town!