You chose us.

My child.
I felt your soul around me for so long...at times, my body ached to bring you forth, and tears flowed too...but when I sat quietly, I could hear in the rustle of the leaves, in the silence after the end of a song, between breaths 'soon...soon.'

November at Om beach. Arriving at 4am, stumbling down the path with my heavy pack to the crescent shaped beach. The moon shone so brightly that night, glinting in blue shades of silver off the white sand, the dark rocks. We waited patiently till morning outside the guest house. Waiting for the sun, waiting for a room...now I see this is exactly the kind of wait we have to meet you.

You chose us. I heard the hum grow louder as I swam in the salty green sea, as I climbed the steep path to our bungalow, as I lay on the bed while your papa bear worked on his art. It was early in the morning, still dark when I woke in a tangle of sheets, feverish, lucid, removed from the concerns of timing, finance, planning. Waking your father we held fast and close, deeply loving, sleepy loving. The sandman still held sway and we loved freely, without fear.
Afterwards, I drew my knees to my chest, and soothed by the sounds of my lover's breath, I slept deeply.

When the sun woke me a few hours later, I remembered this event as a dream. A beautiful, sensual, and spiritual dream and I felt joy...however, like most dreams, by noon it had dimmed and by sunset faded away.

Soon we said goodbye to India, to our new Indian family, to the bustle of life and to the experience of being able to witness every facet of humanity....but what we took away with us, to keep, was a little seed....you.

Then after we found ourselves in Thailand, already you have joined our wanderer spirits, our nomad hearts. I felt so strange, a slight fever, tiredness, the need for quiet and solitude. Papa working so hard on his exhibition, my emotions sliding around, every which way. We made our way to the sea again, Koh Samet this time. I had moments of joy, seconds of anger, why, why was I feeling so strange. The memory of that night at Om beach flickered, then returned, void of detail, but constantly returning to remind me....There was confusion. We spoke about children and pregnancy, but always in the future tense.

On the bus back to Bangkok I felt the cramps that visit each month, and I cried...Papa held me to his chest, and I wondered why I cried...I knew, but I couldn't believe, it seemed impossible that you should have come through now, when we'd made plans for late next year. Yes, we had it all planned so neatly...as you'll come to discover my beautiful child, sometimes you choose your path, and sometimes it chooses you.

photo from www.popoever.com