Rowan was lying on her side (with her tennis ball, of course) and I knelt down beside her and placed one hand under her and one on top of her abdomen, and sat quietly, waiting. A minute passed. Rowan turned her head to look at me. "Whatcha doing???"
"Shhhh..." I said. She pressed her forhead to mine, and we waited together. I could feel her breathing. I could smell her warm fur.
And we waited. Another minute went by and then whsst! I felt it.
A silly grin appeared on my face, completely involuntary. A tiny something had just faintly brushed past my fingers. It was no more than a light brush against my hand, as slight as if you took your fingertip to brush away a stray eyelash from a child's face. Then a swift POKE! in the other hand. Like the feel of a pencil eraser bouncing off your palm.
So there are tiny puppies in there, stretching and twisting and swimming in their safe little space, and as you can see from the photos, growing fast!
This is Rowan at birth. She is still wet in this photo. She fit snugly into the palm of my hand, and was already trying to walk the first hour she was born:

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