He gazed down lovingly at his distended abdomen, at the fetus that nestled soft and warm within the melon-sized blister on his belly, where brown hair yet descended across the stretched skin and toward his puckered navel.
“My little blister baby.”
When his pregnancy had begun, he had had no idea how translucent his skin would become, how through the epidermis and dermis and the epidural layer of tapiocalike fat, he would be able to shine a flashlight and see the little boy. In those moments, his own flesh became merely a mucousy extension of the placenta that swaddled the miracle baby.
But, best of all were the times (as now, sitting by the bay window in the oversized and chair and shining the fourth flashlight with the twelfth set of batteries) when the fetus turned toward that light and opened its blue eyes and looked upward through the murk of his father toward the world he would shortly join–join by emerging through the sliced paternal membrane.September 5th, 2012
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