You – my growing collection of cells and soul – are active now. My skin hiccuping with the force of your tiny feet, surprised and stretched by your restless strokes.

Another son.

A loosely formed collection of messes-in-waiting.

A sweaty, squeezable hurricane bearing down on my heart.

A heart that is growing in concert with your acrobatics. Changing shape, fitting you in among the ones who own it now.

You – a third man I’m already madly in love with – you dance in my belly, and I’m captivated.

Your short threads in our story shimmer with hope, with promise. You are knit, you are known. 

So while I wonder at the shape our family will take, my body grows to accommodate yours.

Wee man waves at my awkward belly. Pointing at baby. {Sometimes he rubs his own belly when I ask where baby is … we’ll cross that bridge eventually}.

J Girl is head height on you, in an awkward hug, with arms that don’t quite reach around anymore. Whispering kisses to another boy, this daughter of mine, big sister of yours, protector of little brothers.

You dance.

I revel in the knitting. We rejoice in the knowing.

~Your momma.

{If you are new here, and paying attention, you’ll only see pictures of two babes scattered across the site … we have two who never finished knitting, our first and fourth.}