Butterfly, kisses.

Z-

It is Sunday morning, about 6:30 by now. I have been up since about 4. Tried to stay in bed until 5, then woke up to try to respond to a few things I haven't been able to this week. Baby is kicking a little, probably in response to yesterday's coffee I just reheated and drank. Sometimes I feel like my belly is a globe with a butterfly in it. I would call Baby Mariposa. Or Mariposito. Is that Spanish acceptable?

I want you to come home. Not for good if it's not for better, but I miss you. The idea of moving to a house where you haven't spent a lot of time in the kitchen worries me. Some sort of spirit missing. But the kitchen is red and will get redder today, redder and readier for you to come visit. The rooms are becoming places I can imagine being in. And in a week we will be in them.

I am getting more single-minded. Baby makes itself known with kicks and hiccups. Started birthing classes and had a class on breastfeeding. Visit the doctor every two weeks not four, and after this next visit it becomes every week. 35 weeks of 40 done now, and just 37 weeks can be considered full term. I can't wait to hold this baby on my belly for the first time, to see its face, feel its first breaths. My breasts, my body, I am ready.

I don't know that CA is the answer. Or that there is an answer. I am almost certain that reading Ginger Man isn't.

Gata is looking oddly at me now. I woke up too early and she didn't have the chance to cuddle. I moved the globe to give her room to hunt moths, but that isn't enough for her.

love,
A