The cat is curled up on my breasts
his belly resting on the pronounced curve of mine.
As he purrs, the baby moves
pressing some part of himself upward
against the furball draping the roof of his world.
The cat stops purring.
His ears perk.
I think he feels the movement, too,
and waits curiously for another.
But the baby inside me stills.
It is not the weight of the cat
but it's purring which my son responds to.
So I stroke the pale fur
and the kitty-cat purrs
and the baby moves.
Sometimes being unable to sleep isn't so bad.