i feed his body with mine. i taste good to him. he grows.
another story for another day: my body didn't know how to deliver him earthside, not without an assist. and then another. and then another.
but it knew how to grow him and it knows how to nourish him and i rock and i rock and i rock in this old wooden chair, unsure where i end and he begins, and i discover all the daily miracles falling at my feet. i thank my body, i praise my body, for every single one.