...I shall arrive in due time. I would not trust your husband to deliver milk from the dairy, let alone my grandchild...
She could not help but laugh. The letter, although including a jibe at her husband, could not veil the warmth of excitement her mother had churning around inside that frosty exterior. If nothing else, the letter served to remind the receiver of it just how quickly the day approached. She could no longer see her toes, the swell of her stomach eclipsing them and anything else that would be beneath it, normally Ash, their dog, who would circle her feet still whenever excited. Though the dogs excitement paled in comparison to that of her lovers. He was as prepared as a man, a father to be, could be. The home was ready for their firstborn. She was still afforded the luxury of exquisite clothing and indulgences, moreso infact, for it was as if he loved her beyond comprehension, beyond what he felt before she carried their child, as if he worshiped her, placed her atop a high pedestal. He cared not if she kicked him in her sleep, or the child within elbowed him through the wall of flesh as he tried to rest. He did not mind her strange fancy for jam upon roasted meat. He was compassionate of her emotional turns.
A child? She had delivered many to other women, supported them through the agonising pain, listened to the screams, the hateful words shouted at their lovers who were separated from the scene by normally just a curtain or closed door. Some of the mothers were stoic, trying to internalise their emotion, their pain, at the request of an unsympathetic partner, or would make a futile attempt of showing strength, normally taking it out upon a strip of leather or a wooden dowel in the mouth, though more often their nails digging into the hand of who ever joined them to share the experience. Women of all ages, the very young, and those who had reached their autumn years, all of different sizes, grey haired, dewy skin, some with healthy born, others less fortunate. She knew what to expect, yet, fear had begun to set in.
She was carrying large for just one child, her slender frame making this all the more apparent, and although earlier on she had toyed with the idea that there might be more than one child in her womb, it was seemingly more likely as the day of the birth drew ever closer. She was used to being independent, soon she would have someone, or more than one, be dependent upon her. For all the uncertainty, her fears, her doubts, there was one thing she was confident in, her ability to fiercely protect the life growing within her...should their father not deal with the threat first that is.
