Saturday, 30 May 2009
There is something in the air here. An undeniable tension floating on the cool end of Autumn breeze. Something is up and the air vibrates with it. My body is primed to gravid perfection. Skin taut and wanting, pushed to its elastic limits, smooth, pale, glowing. The curves are so exaggerated now, so full. Nothing droops, nothing hides. A proud display of femininity that can't be hidden, marred only by the ripple as little knees move beneath, the occasional outline of a foot pressing forward.
I can probably count down now in hours when it will happen. 1 day. 2 days at most. I feel it, know that I am ready, know that these are the very last minutes. Know my body will never know this fullness again, that I will never again be stretched so tightly, hair glossy and thick, cheeks flushed with the expectant glow.
All these weeks I've been waiting for something. For realisation, for evocation of that deep seated connectedness I have always felt before birth. The prowling sensation, the knowledge that something was there, something that hadn't been before.
I have tried so hard to bond with my possum, to use his name, to envisage him in our lives and picture him. And it's felt like a painting. An imaginary scene. Heavy thick oil on canvas instead of the translucency of premonition. I feel him now. I feel him here with me. I feel his head, covered in vernix and the pale down of a newborn on my chest. Remember the familiar scent of newness and intoxication drifting up into my consciousness. I feel little hands splayed over flesh as little mouths nuzzle for the milk that prickles through my breasts.
I feel him and he is here. Months of guilt for not feeling him, for knowing that he was coming and being afraid that I would not know him when he arrived. For not being able to see his face, or his spirit. Of feeling kicks that distended me so improbably and yet not being able to connect them to anyone. They just were. The ultrasound with his face hidden from me, cheek to placenta, arm lazily thrown up over. Not yet, he knew that I needed him to be more than a photograph when he arrived.
And now I know him. And I'm waiting.