Fruits of Insanity

a hum of life

In the fourth month, after the morning sickness dissolved into the beginnings of the glow that pregnant women are supposed to exude, Valerie first felt the tiny flutters of life within. It was the beginning of the day at the office, and she couldn't believe how distracting it was. She put her hand over it, wishing that she could share, but for now, these flutters were hers alone.

They made her want to curl into herself and gestate on a permanent basis without having to deal with the less miraculous parts of her life. They were impossibly faint, an echo of laughter. The taste of a bubble. A butterfly's kiss. With them came a hum of contentment, and the last thing Val wanted was to have to spend her days at the office.

But with a baby on its way, Val needed the money, and so she pushed aside the miracle happening inside her. Mostly. It sprang at her in odd moments—as she sat in the conference room before a meeting. As she ate a sandwich at her desk and tapped an answer to an email with half her mind. As she took the familiar route home on the subway, surrounded by people but knowing that she had a secret life within her, one that was making the first notes in an unknown symphony.

Instead of people watching with the hyper awareness of a woman traveling alone , which was her usual mode in the evening, she ignored the mass of humanity crowding her into her seat and reached within. She touched the contented hum with the flavor of her own song, a wave of love and welcome to strengthen the new life. It was a shock when her station was called because the ride had passed without her awareness.

Matthew was home as he usually was, making deliciousness waft from the kitchen. His commute was shorter so he usually made dinner. She heard him, his song as familiar as her own. In her joy she slipped through the door and glowed her way through to the kitchen. “Matt? Guess what?”

He craned his head around and made an encouraging hum, but his hands were full of vegetables and a knife.

That was fine. She floated over in a wave of happiness and gave him a kiss. “Oh, that looks good. But guess what?” She didn't wait for an answer. “I felt the baby move.”

He dropped things and took her in his arms to swing her around. As she was giggling and dizzy, he dropped down to put his ear against her. “Too faint for me to feel, yet.” He sent a pulse of love to wrap over both Val and the new life like a hug. “I can't wait.”

“Suddenly everything's so much more real than before,” she said, and sat with a thud at the kitchen table. “I mean, now, I know. We're going to be parents.”

He turned back to dinner with a laugh. “So, the endless nausea wasn't convincing enough?”

Val didn't know how to answer that, but even though it wasn't strong enough to touch him, with the first flutter of life that she had felt under her heart, she'd made a connection to a new, fainter than faint hum of feeling that was going to grow into a person. “I wonder if its a boy or a girl?”

He laughed again. “Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She reached inside again, stroked the new hum of life. “I don't care either way, but I can still wonder.”

Another night in the sixth month. Matt pulled her down to sit with him on their couch, their legs tangled and a blanket soft and warm over them.

“Every day, I feel it getting stronger.” She put her hands over her growing belly. The flutters were especially strong tonight.

He sighed. She pulled his hands to where the almost kicks were the strongest. They both went absolutely still. Then his joy roared out like fountain. “I can feel it.” They stayed there, marveling. “Now, I know what you meant. We're going to be parents.” They let the wonder of it build, sending warmth and love and welcome. “Our little girl.”

Val laughed. “A girl? Are you sensing or are you just sending wishes into the universe.”

It was a long time before he answered. “I think, I'm sensing. But I could be wrong. You're closer to the connection than I am, and I may be feeling your colors and not the baby.”

She reached within to the hum that had become more complicated as it grew. Now it was contentment and curiosity and wonder and joy, and always love. It was learning from the feelings around it. But Val couldn't tell still if it were a boy or a girl. “I can't tell either.”

“We should think about names.”

Val frowned. “Maybe. But I'm not sure I'll be ready until I meet it.”

“Fair enough.”

Midnight in the ninth month, impatience and enormous spasms of muscles. Val felt the contractions and knew that it wasn't really time yet, no matter how ready both she and the baby were. Matt was exhausted. She didn't want to wake him, not when it would be hours yet. Instead, she got out of bed and did the last load of laundry—little baby clothes in neutral greens and yellows because they hadn't wanted to know either way.

She stood at the dresser feeling huge and clumsy as she folded little onesies and socks, pausing every now and then as a contraction made it impossible to move or think. And always, pulses of love and welcome to the life nearly ready to be born. Over time, contentment had given away until it was nearly gone, and most of what she felt was curiosity about what came next, and love. So much love.

And then, a gasp. A gush of fluid. A realization that it was time.

Val went over and touched Matt's shoulder. He woke with a start and sat up. “Is it time?”

She nodded, and even though there was pain over the next hours, she focused on love and welcome, and then they were three.

Val looked up at Matt standing next to the bed where she rested with their daughter, already lifting her head to look at the world.

Word count: 1068
Prompt 10: Psychic Day (8/4)