Alasdair
The soft feather of my quill tickles the underside of my chin as I sit contemplating the arrangement of words in my head that speak of the feelings in my heart. Watching my beloved wife over these past many months fully blossom into the glowing flower of fertility has been an eye-opening experience, to say the least. If I thought I loved my wife before, seeing her body change as our child grows inside her has compounded those emotions with a different kind of love. This love isn’t signified by passion, hunger, or need; its foundation is based on gratitude in its purest form. With every day that passes, as her body nourishes our babe, that love grows, weaving in and around the affection and devotion that owns my heart.
Ella is going to be a wonderful mother. When she doesn’t know I’m watching, I find her singing to him or telling him stories while her hands gently roam around the full mound of her belly. I say “him” because she has grown so much that I can’t imagine a girl would take up that much space—unless, of course, there are two. That was suggested by one midwife, but the midwife that is here now is adamant that there is only one and likely a “fair-sized” healthy lad.
The words start falling into place as I see her in my mind. Everything that I love about her is enhanced by the glow she wears so well. Before my quill touches the paper, I say another silent thank you to our souls that loved before, wherever, and whenever that may have been. I will forever be grateful to be a part of, what appears to be, an eternal romance.
Has there ever lived a woman as beautiful as thee
Whose skin is pure,
Whose hair does shine,
Whose eyes reflect the sea?
Has there ever lived a woman as powerful as thee
With strength of mind
And depth of heart
And uncommon bravery?
Has there ever lived a woman as feminine as thee
Whose grace is poised,
Whose curves are soft,
Who glows with fertility?
The answer is resounding:
Not ever has there been
A beauty or force of nature
A woman so feminine.
For you, the center of my heart
Are simply beyond compare.
But add to that the seed that grows
That will become our heir,
Safe and swaddled within your womb.
’Tis wondrous to see.
Yet what I’ve learned from watching you
Along this long journey
There is no mother ever lived as exceptional as thee.
I put the quill in its station, dust the shiny ink, and wait for it to dry. My eyes roam across the words as the tickle of excitement flutters in my stomach. It will be any day that labor will begin, and Ella and I will finally lay eyes upon the child created by our love.