There was no place I’d rather be. Your heartbeat the soundtrack to my expanding universe, your musical voice lulling me. Bone of your bone. Flesh of your flesh. I came from you, grew out of you, jutting like an extra limb, a body part you never knew you were missing, until you felt the urgency of me sprouting inside you.
I was a jealous creation, inhabiting the home of your body. I was you, from you. We spent those months in the deepest of meditations. We dove into one another’s souls. I was utterly submerged. I would have stayed there forever if the sharp light hadn’t called to me.
I liked to sit upwards, straight, inside you. This made the doctors nervous. But you knew. You knew you could speak to me in that sing-song voice, ask me to flip. That I’d do anything for you. No interference needed.
And so, I flipped. I flipped like a dolphin, playful and eager to show off her human tricks. There was no time to hear the applause. I felt them coming, the frenzied energy currents, drawing me, back and forth and back again. I could feel a great shift. A thing you read to me about, late at night, with my father asleep beside you. Countless books on the great event, The Birth.
I gave in and trusted. I knew not what would come next, only that everything would be forever changed.
The music of the heart beat drum and your laughter suddenly uprooted, now replaced with harsh breath and wails. I was doing this to you? I never wanted to exit, never dreamed of it. How I longed to stay inside, where there was no pain, where you sang to me, whispered secrets, giggled joyfully when I kicked.
The waves came for me, pulled me, dragged me out from inside you. My body pushed and pulled, arms and legs contorting to strange shapes. Fingers poked and prodded me, yanked me, and I tumbled out in a jumbled tangle.
The light! It stung my eyes, speckled my vision with frenzied purple polka dots. I sputtered and coughed, the aftermath of the exodus still thick in my nostrils, still clogging my mouth. Strange instruments vacuumed it out and I heard a wail so monstrous I barely realized it was my own. Was this the language of this strange new world? It burst forth from me, a will of its own. I braved it for you.
It seemed lifetimes before I was handed to you. You pressed me against you and the faucet of yelps and wails shut off. I was silent and still and oh…there was the heartbeat! Your heartbeat, fainter now, but still there, beat in my ears. I nuzzled your soft, warm skin.
And so there I was, a bundle in your arms. The ecstasy of you doting on me. You and my father, broad arms and gentle words. You rocked me, held me, sang to me. No longer of one body but yet, oh still so close. I drank of your lifeblood. I suckled at your breasts. My every need attended. Why were we severed? I could not understand. I soon grew and gazed intently at you as you taught me. Observed the shape of your lips, the vowel and consonant sounds you formed into fluid sentences. I pressed my tiny hands against your throat, felt the vibrations. All day, all night, I swam in the sea of your beautiful, sing-song voice.