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I prop myself up and trail an unhurried path with my finger down her body. Treating her breasts with extra care, massaging them gently, refraining from sucking or rolling the nipples, but rather lavish them with gentle licks and kisses.
If Harper’s quickening breath and whimpering noises are anything to go by, this is the perfect adjustment to her changing body.
After one more caress, I leave her perfect breasts and move down her torso to her stomach. I swallow harshly at the lump in my throat. It’s restricting my airflow further, and I can hardly breathe. She still doesn’t show a lot, but I can finally make out the tiniest bump. I also remember from our doctor visit this morning exactly where the baby is.
Holding my hand over the right spot, I caress it with my thumb and close my eyes.
Harper puts her hand on mine, and I almost buckle under the enormousness of this moment.
I already love this baby so much that sometimes my heart hurts like it isn’t big enough to handle these emotions. When I glance at Harper, her gaze is already on me, shimmering with unshed tears. Does she feel the same about the baby? Is her heart expanding like mine so two more people can fit?
Because I’m in. All. In.
With both of them.
