Linking up (almost too late!) for Five Minute Friday with Gypsy Mama, Lisa-Jo Baker, where it doesn't matter that I started writing this entry at a quarter to midnight, because that's still plenty of time to write for five minutes.
Today's prompt: Small.
It's late and it's quiet and we're the only ones awake. Your Dada and your big sister are sleeping quietly and it's just us standing guard over the last few minutes of today.
You always seem to keep me company in the darkness, small one. When I wake from bad dreams, shaking and scared, it's like you know that I need to know that I'm not alone, and so your tiny little kicks come reaching out to me in the night. I'm here, Mama. It's okay.
When I lie in bed at the start of a new day, weary before I've even managed to pull myself upright and never sure that I'll make it through, you're the first one to greet me with the dawn. And even though I know it's mostly you that's making me so tired, I can't help smiling when I feel you flip, rolling along with me as we get ready to face the hours ahead.
And then we go in to get your sister and the first thing she needs to do is say hello. Bubba, she grins, all wild hair and crooked teeth, her little hands patting the roundness in my belly, the only thing so far that shows for sure there's you.
You're still so small, my child. Not even the length of a ruler or the heft of a single pound, and yet all the promise of your life unfolds in front of me and inside me every time I feel you slide and stretch in the secret places.
You'll be my baby forever, won't you? Because your sister doesn't seem to be listening when I tell her I want her to stay small, to stay by my side with her hand in mine. She wants to be off and running and exploring the world, and while there's a part of me that's cheering her on, the rest is reveling in the fact that at least I still get to hold you close for another four months and then some.
I know I'll blink and you'll be leaving for college, but just for now, stay small my love. Stay small, won't you?