When the baby touches me, I know that it is there, separate from me, yet enclosed within my body. With each touch, my baby reminds me that I am inhabited, that I carry a child, that I will soon be a mother. My baby kicks me under my ribs, stands on my bladder, erupts at loud noises, sleeps, and then awakens in my morning. During these moments, I forget any other actions in which I am involved. Immediately, I stop, pause, and attend to my baby who, by touching me from the inside, is declaring its presence.
Communion means the act of sharing.
During pregnancy, my baby and I share the moments of touch. Even before its birth, I touch my baby with care, the word from which caress is derived. We become a complementary whole. I sit quietly in a rocking chair, looking at nothing. My hands rest lightly on my protruding abdomen, one below and one above, palms to skin, as if holding and supporting its bulk.