Monday, October 31, 2005
So how's this going to work? Mom asks, I mean, with your son, who's going to watch him(when you deliver)?

We're driving down a scenic New England route, winding beneath arches of burnt red and yellow leaves. We haven't even dated the pregnancy yet, I say. We're not even sure we should be telling people... my voice trails off.

Do you think I should stay home with the baby, and he'll will go with you? She asks, Or do you think I'll go with you and he'll stay with the baby? As if those are the only two options. As though either would be fine.

Saltbox homes, white with weathered black shutters. Pumpkins on wooden porches, their stems tied with thick linen ribbons. Wreaths of deep red cranberries adorn doors. The grass is still green, but flecked with patches of tans and browns - spots already surrendered and awaiting the first snow.

A little red farmstead hugs the curve of the road. Cars line the fields edge and children are milling by the entrance - witch hats and capes and Spiderman masks- brown paper bags clutched in their hands. Candy corn and homemade caramel apples, I imagine.

Mella? What do you think?

The car seems small as I turn to her. Hands carefully resting on ten and two. Pillow pressed behind the small of her back. A sweet, soft smile resting on her lips.

She isn't waiting for the results of bloodwork or for the doctor to press a doppler on my belly to be happy. She isn't cautiously optimistic. She isn't even hopeful. She is simply planning for what she knows is to come.

I shake my head and reach across the console to pat her leg. I don't know.

And then I slip into silence.

Hoping to be able to answer her question later.

And hoping for a heartbeat tomorrow.

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Blogger LJ said...

May you hear heartbeats.

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