I was never more happy with my belly than when carrying Kingsley. We didn’t know of his name back when our baby was growing inside of me; we just knew that it was our Seahorse kicking around in there. Erroll knew the gender of our unborn child and kept this secret all to himself. No matter how many times I hinted that perhaps I wanted to know, Erroll was resolved not to divulge: for he knew resolutely that I truly wanted a surprise.
Our Seahorse proved to be a strong buck, displacing two of my right ribs and causing a few nerves to get stuck between sinew and bone. I limped during the last two weeks of my pregnancy, sciatica some days bringing tears to my eyes. But I could always find peace just by rubbing my belly.
Each afternoon, after work, the chronic back pain could be relieved only with water therapy: either swimming laps in our pool or immersing my entire torso into a hot bubble bath. There, for an hour or so, discomfort was suspended, and imagination took over: what would our Seahorse look like (handsome/pretty, of course!); would s/he be sporty (er, a given with folks like us!); and be a water baby? What choice did the Seahorse have?!
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