Tonight, I caught a glimpse. The warm front pushed in and the snow melt caught on the breeze, mixing with the scent of a Springtime rain.
There's been a thaw, and the snowdrops are being tricked, deceived right out of their snug garden beds. If I close my eyes, I know why.
Although I love all my babies equally, there is something precious to me about a Springtime baby. July is downright miserable for welcoming newborns, heat and humidity forcing us indoors with fans and air conditioners blowing. But in Spring, everything is perfect. I can dress my little ones up in soft woolens and we can venture out, yes, or snuggle deep inside. So many animals welcome babies in the Spring - and something just feels right about it. A long deep winter of growing someone in a dark and secret place, only to present her on a brilliant Spring day, blinking in the warm sunlight. Like a wobbly new lamb, greeting the world with exuberant cries.
Tonight I stand by the open window for just a moment, and I catch a glimpse of something I had yet to visualize. Me, here, with someone new, watching a Spring rain out my window. I'm feeling pretty full of baby these days, pushed against by a new set of hardening bones doing their best to stretch right out. My joints are beginning to feel wobbly and uncertain. Things are changing. I am changing.
A false thaw, to be sure, but a true promise. Soon. To me, Spring and babies will always smell the same, both ripe with the promise that only new life can bring.
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