The test turns blue
I stand in shock, realising there is a YOU.
Smaller than a speck or a strand of hair, you are there.
For months we are one; intertwining bodies and collective thoughts, you, my little daughter, growing beneath my heart.
I walk down the street, survey a dozen faces, and smile at my little secret, thinking they don’t know there’s a me and a you.
Precious secret, fruit of my womb.
You start to make me feel ill but I don’t care, I know you are there.
My belly swells, my heart does too, already I am loving you.
I cannot move, the weight’s so great, my lungs are squashed as I wait. I pray, and sometimes, I talk to you. I do the best a mother can do.
Patiently grow you to perfection, child of love, beneath my heart.
Waves hit me, I know you’ll soon be here.
It hurts like nothing I’ve ever known, but I’m looking forward to welcoming you home.
I sway from the force of the pain, thinking of the countless women who’ve been through the same; all through the ages, since the dawn of time, women have made people.
I feel more connected to the universe than anyone will ever know.
For a short time, I am goddess.
You free from my body with a strangled cry, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
Eyes like the father, you stare at me, YOU, the child that grew beneath my heart.
You suckle from my breast, you already know what to do, while I lie there in mother bliss, cradling you, and think of all the things we’ll do.
You learn how to smile, my heart skips a beat. I can’t stop kissing your tiny feet.
Soft wisps of hair grow, like the father’s too, reminding me that I made you.
I listen to you guzzling milk from my body – you break off to grin at me half way through and I wonder how I ever lived before there was a you.
Copyright Joanna Jones, 2005.
Based upon my daughter Lucia.
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