Your Pregnant Belly, A Love Story

I stood on the beach not far from you, but enough so I thought your glow couldn’t physically touch me.  I knew that the rays would burn if they grazed my arm.

I watched, knowing your every movement would cause me deep pain, but I couldn’t peel my eyes away.  Your hormonally thick hair, in an easy ponytail, a perfectly comfortable but fitting t-shirt dress for your eight months to be displayed and your 20-something year old legs…thin, but strong enough to carry your tiny + baby frame.

The moments came, as I knew they would, when you rubbed your belly in mid conversation, then stopped and just like a shield, held your hands in place around your bump.  You would smile. The deepest happiness exploding from the corners of your mouth.

And I thought awful, jealous things. I thought desperate, sad things.  And I swiped tears away, pretending that sand had blown in my eyes. 

But mostly, I thought how beautiful you were.  I wondered if you knew how lucky you were.  And I thought how I’d give anything to be standing there, with my hair in an easy ponytail, in a perfectly comfortable but fitting t-shirt dress for my eight months to be displayed and shielding my belly while smiling – the deepest happiness exploding from the corners of my mouth.

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