November 21, 2008
I cup my hands around this swollen pocket,
its button pronounced from each trimester’s
added carat. This globe that stretches beneath
my fingertips was once so small, waiting,
pale and lunar. Who knew it would become a garden,
a drowsy damp bloom where his ears began to curve
and his wrist angle, where the muddy color of his iris
hides behind a tender eyelid that flutters above the spooned
valley of his collarbone. The daylight shocks my eyes
but all I can think of is dusk, how soil-dark
it must be in this bud, yet how his birthday will come
as a starburst baptism. A Spanish phrase tickles
the roof of my mouth: Doy a luz.
I’m giving light, from one realm to another.
Doy a luz.
These three words fall like tiger lilies from my lips,
leaving spicy orange freckles on my tongue.
I think I wrote this about four years ago. Now that I’m actually experiencing pregnancy, it’s interesting to look back on this. I’m surprised that, yes, I do have many days where I feel this romantic and in awe of what’s going on in my body. (Well, definitely not for the first 15 weeks.) As far as The Big Due Day goes…I alternate between being excited and insecure about my strength. I’m still in love with the fact that giving birth, in Spanish, is literally giving light. Maybe I’ll just have to remember that as I’m bearing down. :)