bab evolves

Today my friend Kelly came over for dinner with her family. She and her wife are expecting their second child. Their first child is 6. Kelly is an amazing mom and her wife Janet is too. Kelly became partnered after she has raised her daughter for 4 years by herself. She is a total delight and I have loved her since she was conceived. She is born the day after and I feel like she was sent here from some place to bring laughter and creativity to the world. Well, She is also an incredible artist. She brought her artwork from art camp and I was very impressed by her color combinations, her composition and her expression of feelings. I am now sitting in a quiet house with a sleeping child, wife, dogs and cats. The only thing that is not sleeping is me. I am not sleeping because I am thinking about how different my life is now and I remember anticipating my son's arrival. I could not wait for him to get here. We would just talk to him all the time about how we wanted him to come and how everyone was so excited to meet him and that we were so happy he was coming. While Kelly was here, the baby was moving all over the place, trying to get comfortable, stretching out one leg, then shoving her rear up in the air and then spinning downward. After they left, I remembered how magical that time was while we were waiting. I miss those times, I miss having him in my belly and feeling his every move. There was so much comfort in knowing that he was in there, safe and fed and warm and needing nothing. I felt so close to him, we were truly one. Once he came out I can remember those first few months, just staring at him, watching him breathe, watching his little lips purse in a suckling motion. I remember his tiny little finger clutching my huge pinkie finger like it was his only grasp on reality. Don't get me wrong, he is still dependent,but not like that. Many days, I am so grateful that he is independent, that he can walk on his own, that he can show me what he wants to eat, that he can play by himself long enough for me to pee. But some days, when the house is quiet, and the lights are dim, I lay and think about what it was like having him inside of me, the telepathic conversations we used to have, his first breath and the first time he ever looked at me and I miss that.