calypso

I had the moment today. The defining moment where everything comes down to one amazing realization. The kind that comes out of nowhere and leaves you wondering what the fuck just happened.

I laid there on my side, half-conscious and in naught but a blanket. He had moved the blanket in such a way that left my entire back and shoulders exposed. He oh-so-lightly ran his hands across my bare skin, stopping only to place warm kisses and any given spot.

He would kiss my neck, my ear, my cheek...I smiled so widely at this, I was sure a happier moment had never existed.

He made a little growling noise into my neck, and I giggled more than I meant to. He kissed my cheek again.

"One more," I requested, and he complied.

As his lips met once more with my skin, that's when it hit me so suddenly: "Holy shit, I LOVE him."

One might think that's such a revelation, especially considering I've confessed it previously. Yes, I had said it before, and I had certainly meant it before. But, today, the depth and extremity of my love was fully realized.

This overwhelming tenderness mixed with shock and spiritual high left me in a state of blissful astonishment.

Perhaps it was all a culmination of the goings-on of last night.

Let's just say he was "pleased" and we laid there for who-knows-how-long. He was falling asleep and this frustrated me terribly.

I wanted to be touched and kissed and caressed, not in a sexual way, though. I wanted his soft, trailing fingertips, his delicate kisses, his love expressed in physical action.

He wanted me to tell him what to do, and maybe I should've, but I didn't want to have to. I wanted him to want to do it, to the point where he'd do it on his own.

I tried to explain it, but he didn't get it. I couldn't help but start to cry.

Love me, I begged inwardly. Touch me, tell me I'm beautiful, treat me like you revere me as the most precious thing you have ever laid your hands upon...treat me like the fragile pregnant woman I am.

My frustration frustrated him. He said something he shouldn't have, and I sat up and began fishing for my clothes.

He grabbed my arm, though not forcefully, and gently pulled me back down to him.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

It was too late. I was sobbing and there was no stopping it.

I was crying for everything. I wept for myself, for the tormented childhoods of he and I both, for my baby, for all those who have abandoned me, for the wrongs I've suffered, for the thought of this relationship ever ending.

He held me close to him, and I felt comforted. When my tears subsided, he asked me to show him how I wanted to be touched.

I curled up closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. I ran my fingers across his chest, his stomach, his sides, all of him. I kissed his shoulder & chest, ever so softly.

He was beginning to understand, and before long, I was lying on my back. He did everything I had wanted, and then some.

I needed him to make love to me, surely more than I need the very air we were breathing...and he did.

It was amazing. That's all I can say.

So, this morning, in the midst of my near-speechlessness, I said the only thing I could conjure...the one thing that mattered.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, and left for work.

*sigh*


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So, I got a sonogram today. I saw the baby, saw it's little heart thumping away. It broke my heart, and I didn't care that it showed.

More than anything, I wish I could keep it.

Alas, I cannot, and it devastates me.

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Blah.