{grow baby}

{photo by Robert Jacobs Photography}

l.i.c., ny

All summer long, whenever I go to the garden, the baby wiggles and kicks, as if as delighted as I am to be there. To me, it's a sign of a baby's connectedness with its mother; the happy endorphins I release when I'm in my little patch of green, pulling weeds and cultivating the soil, are instantly translated to the little one. We're both breathing cleaner, richer oxygen, and working in joyful anticipation of the meal that's to follow. It's fitting then, that it is there, yesterday evening when pulling the last of my peppers and sorting through the surprises of my late season strawberry patch, that I had my first contraction. 

It wasn't the real thing, just practice, my body preparing. But it was exciting nonetheless. 

Here I am in one of the rare quiet moments left in our world before the little eggplant {now as big as a watermelon, say the baby books} arrives. I've eaten well, rested, exercised, sang to and stroked the baby in my belly. All there is left to do now is grow.