Last night as I watched you sleep, holding hands, as we usually do, I thought of them. Of all the babes that danced in my womb, but never made it to lay here beside me. And as I surrendered into the soft sinking light behind the curtains, and the warm and comforting wetness of my lashes, I caught a glimpse of them. In a flash, a rainbow orb shimmered above the bedroom door, only for a moment. And I began to pray.
In that haunted kind of way; the only way you can remember, so romantic, and yet so sad. And still, I can feel them all around me, smiling at me from behind their secret veils. Visiting me in my dreams as the most impossible characters. Flashing through the maple sky like sunlight flickering behind closed eyelids. Always so close, just like you babe.
This morning, I noticed your eyes had changed colour. The small speckled circle of hazel and honey flecks, expanding outwards from the iris, slowly moving into the space where there used to only be that deep, oceanic blue.
And there they were, not just the four of them, but every babe I have ever mothered. Ever. And as they flashed by, my breath caught in my throat, I smiled. They are all in your eyes, babe. All of them. Every kiss, coo, cry, cuddle is them praying, and holding, and blessing us.
So I pray, that we may we love each other in the knowing, that a hundred million stars are smiling at us, as we rest together, belonging to each other's arms.
My little babe, Tey, may you know that my sweetest and greatest dream has come to life. And it is as simple as you, being here, with me.