In anticipation of the fifth hand

There were 4 hands in my life.
Once I was holding the hand of my mother. It was so smooth and tender. Then I thought that the tenderness of my mother’s hand will be eternal. Many years later I touched my mom’s hand again. It was still soft, but slightly wrinkled. It was the first time I realized what means this hand to me, and that no wrinkles will erase from this hand its tenderness.
The second hand was the hand of my father. One day he asked me to bandage a wound from a cut on his hand. I have always been afraid of blood. And at the sight of blood on father's hand - I felt bad. Daddy long and good-naturedly laughed at my weakness. Since that moment I loved strong hands of my father.
The third hand was the closest and most distant to me – for 16-year fool girl in love. Once I’ve read in a book that the man whose hand you hold in your hands can not stop thinking about you. I held it in my hands and thought that this man will be with me forever. But this did not happen. And I always thank myself for it.
But the fourth hand has brought me an endless happiness. The touch of this hand I'm waiting every morning, its warmth I miss every minute. This is the hand of my beloved husband.

And now I'm waiting for the fifth hand. This hand will be a part of my and my husband’s world. And each of us looks forward to touch this hand. At the moment it is in me. Soon I will become a mother to my first child. It is the son. And from day to day I will feel the first movement of his little hands.
These hands are everything to me. And holding these hands – I’m not afraid of anything in my life. Holding hands my family and I will go through all suffering and misery. Each finger of these hands means to me more than the whole life.