You're lying there asleep, your hair in a knotty mess spread across the pillow. You're curled up facing me, one of my hands on your swollen belly both of your hands covering mine. You look beautiful. I'm in awe of you. I really am. We're very similar really; you and I. We're both good at keeping stuff to ourselves until it builds up and we cry for help. But you can share you emotions, talk about your past, even though it is painful. I wish I could do that. I really do.
I feel the baby move under my hand and I see that for the first time in years I have a certain future. There is no doubt that in 13 weeks I'll be a father again. 13 weeks. I have a hunch it'll be like riding a bike, it just comes back to you. The love. The responsibility. The overwhelming emotion. And I have a future with you. With you and the baby. Naš beba.