Little Feet

Can you see me? Can you hear me? Have you felt a little flutter? I can’t wait until you hold me close and hear me coo and mutter It’s been three weeks and all you see is a tiny little speck. I feel the doctor nudge me and do his normal check I know you, mom, will love me so with every breath you take. So touch me softly, love me sweetly, every moment wake I’ve made it to five months, you see, everyday I’m growing. I have lips and teeth and eyes that see I can tell that you are showing My feet pressed up against your belly, you tickle my tiny toes. I kick and punch and wiggle around, everybody knows I just woke up from a nap, you see and I’m feeling quite distressed. I’m not sure what it is about today I cannot really express I have not heard your laugh at all or felt your soft, warm hand. I hear the doctor’s voice to say, “If you want, I can.” It burns, it hurts, what is that thing you’re using to pull me out? I’m not ready! I don’t like it! Please stop! I try to shout. It’s no use, it’s over now, you can’t hear my tiny cry. I loved you, mom, I truly did and I’ll always remember why.