comfort and joy

More and more often these days, I find myself sitting quietly and just rubbing my belly, over and over and around. She moves alot, and it feels so wonderful, so alive. Some days she's already moving - even squirming to the point that I feel this need to comfort her and tell her somehow that everything is alright, to soothe her and calm (like when she has the hiccups). If I run my fingertips or nails lightly over, she even jumps a bit, like it tickles. Other times she's quiet, and I just want her to know I'm watching over her while she sleeps. She responds to that touch, rising under my hands, some days almost dancing with me. I sing too, when I can, and I can't even begin to describe the joy that comes over everything. It's like those first days of falling in love, everything looks nicer, I hear birds singing and smell the flowers we planted and it's hard to imagine anything being better than this. Looking at our wedding pictures, I realize that day is the only other time I've felt so very much, but now it's everyday. It's still me and Glen, more than ever, and now this third part of us. Some mornings I wake up and just look at him, watching him sleep, and I am amazed and blessed to be here with him and with her. Amazing too, to watch his face when he gets to feel her too or sees her thumping around so my belly jumps. Sometimes I'll point out a lump or a hard spot on my belly, and he'll feel her, wondering like I do - is it a foot? a knee? her head? Sometimes he probes with his strong doctor's hands and he can figure out what it is, other days she eludes his trained touch too and we just have to keep guessing. Either way, she must know by now that both our hands mean love. I hope she does.