Making room

The soft folds of my body are getting pulled,

so imperceptibly slowly,

I am unmoved by their motions.

Tissues stretch, thinning and thickening.

Muscles elongate,

quietly doing the work of making more room.

My body expands gently,

like clouds shifting on an invisible breeze.

And through the break in those clouds,

small purple lightning bolts appear.

They crawl up and down my body,

going from violet to mauve,

collecting buddies with time.

Soon, a collection of these gorgeous scars appear.

They creep up from the base of my womb

up to my navel like a choir sending soft melodies up to Heaven.

These snaking lengths,

these lighting bolts,

these choir members

remind me of the miracle of womanhood.

And the absoluteness of female exceptionalism.

As my womb grows to make room for my son,

as my stretch marks appear,

I know I’m one moment closer to seeing him for the first time.