Growing bones

For months she grew bones in her belly. Tiny fingers clenched and relaxed and miniature muscles kicked out little legs, pounding on the wall of flesh, announcing their presence. And outside, giant hands felt for signs of life. For flutters of hiccups. Ears pressed to stomach, skin stretched out over a mountain of life, listening for the morse code of the yet to be born.

And one day in the middle of a mild winters day the two dimensional black and white picture became a three dimensional baby. Crying, breathing, sucking, sleeping, living. A real life boy. A child. A human. A life to be lived. A life yet to know love, feel confusion or reel with pain. A life unjaded and untarnished with the dirt of living, with the marks of memory