Being Mama When Baby gets Hurt

Yesterday, one of my precious, nearly two year old boys, fell off of and hit his face on the toy box he’d climbed. He fell so hard, his teeth went right through his upper lip and gouged the wood. Luckily, the cut is completely inside his mouth, the teeth involved seem fine, and he didn’t meet criteria for stitches. That said, his swollen upper lip looks like black and red hamburger meat inside and every time I look at his sweet face, my heart hurts.

One of the choices I’ve made for my children is to give them a great deal of freedom to explore their world, make mistakes, and learn. This often results in awesome photos of messy, happy kids running wild in the woods and fields around our home. They ride horses, play with our giant dog, pick up bugs, paddle board and kayak with us, and while they aren’t fearless, they are all quite independent for their respective ages. Most of the time, I feel confident in my approach.

Then something like this happens and that confidence crumbles a little more every time I conjure the image of my child sitting on the floor sobbing with blood covering his hands and running down his chin. I hold him close, I clean him up, and thoroughly investigate the injury. But even after determining a good rinse, some ice, and time will heal the wound, I know that another little piece of my heart is wounded in a way that won’t ever heal. This is motherhood. And I finally understand how my mama can so quickly recall and describe in excruciating detail every one of my own and my three brothers’ injuries throughout our childhood.

It’s a process, but after working my way over mountains of guilt and fear, I eventually find myself back where I started. Whenever possible, I want to give them more tools to successfully navigate the world. Only as a last resort do I want to make more rules or restrictions to prevent them from being hurt. Now is the time for them to take risks and experience the results. Now, while I’m here to scoop them up and make it okay. Now, while I’m able to create spaces for them to learn where even when they fail spectacularly, the ultimate risk is relatively low.

One day, my sweet, wild girl and boys will go out into the world without me or their dad there to kiss knees, rush them to urgent care, talk them through their options and possible outcomes, tell them no, cook for them, wash their clothes, and the list goes on. Motherhood is fun, painful, beautiful, terrifying, and exhilarating . . . but it’s also a job. And navigating the delicate balance between keeping my babies safe and preparing them to take on the world on their own is one of the hardest parts that job.

Every Mama has her Day

While ringing me up at the register in JoAnne’s last week, the cashier told me that I was really put together.  It felt nice.  And I know why she said it.  My hair was cute, I had lip gloss on, mascara even!  I was holding my daughter on one hip, my purchases in the same hand I had wrapped around her back and I signed the receipt with my free hand.  My sweet Sunshine was happy and smiling and waving at everyone.  I’m sure I looked like a mom who’s got her $#@& together.  So I smiled and I said thank you and I really meant it.  What I did not do was tell her about the week before.

The week before, I showed up at swim class with no lip gloss and my hair in the same, wobbly, top-of-my-head bun I slept in.  We had five minutes to get ready before we were supposed to be in the pool.  I opened our swim bag and dug and dug  . . .  and dug.  I dug until I hit the bottom and dug back up to the top, refusing to except the evidence before my eyes that I had somehow not brought my daughter’s swimsuit or swim diaper.

I threw everything out onto the bench at the Y, I had to check just one more time.  No dice.  I called my husband to see if he’d maybe put it in her diaper bag and he reminded me that my darling girl had gotten into her swim bag just before we left.  She’d thrown everything out and he’d thrown everything back in, but neither of us checked to make sure she hadn’t made off with something important.  There was nothing for it, we weren’t going to be able to go to class.  It was awful because she loves the water and she loves her friend Fred, who we’ve been in swim class with since she was seven months old.

About that time, I heard Fred outside the door so I popped out to let his mama know we weren’t going to make it to class and why.  Fred’s mom, who is never one to give up, immediately offered Fred’s extra suit if we didn’t mind using trunks as well as one of their swim diapers.  SAVED!  We grabbed the suit, got changed, and had an awesome class and I really wish I could end the story there . . .
IMG_2610But alas, after class, with my sweet Sunshine all wrapped up in her towel (hey, at least we had towels, right?), I realized that her after class diaper was also missing.  Thankfully, Fred and his mama were still there.  They gave us a diaper and we were back in business, all dressed, and ready for snack . . . except that I’d brought her frozen blueberries, which make a great snack when they’re frozen.  These, once frozen, but frozen no longer berries were a dark purple, puddle just waiting to ruin absolutely everything they splattered on.

My Sunshine began to cry, because of course, babies are always hungry after swim class and that’s when sweet Fred shared his Cheerios and we were finally able to conclude what was one of the most ridiculous mornings of my life as a mother.  Fortunately for me and for my girl, Fred and his mama are not judgemental.  We all laughed it off together and our morning was not ruined for any of the reasons that it might have been.

Moral of the story?  When you see a mom who’s got it together, say something nice to her.  When you see a mom whose day is falling apart before your eyes, say something nice to her, too, and if you have the power to help, help without judgement.  A kind word can work wonders . . . as can a loaner swimsuit, swim diaper, regular diaper, and Cheerios!  My sweet Sunshine and I really do have the best friends.  : )IMG_2614

Firsts and Lasts

I nursed you for the very first time on a sunny, Sunday morning in July.  You’d been here less than an hour, but seemed to know what you needed.  Your father stood by watching over, nurses came in and out of the room, and I answered questions here and there, but even so, it was somehow just the two of us.

I nursed you for the very last time on a rainy Sunday in February.  You were eighteen months–some might say too old, some might say too young, but for us, it was perfect.  It was quiet and we were alone, watching the sunlight fade away from the living room window as water drops ran down the glass.

Now, I’m sitting here thinking about firsts and lasts.  All at once so happy and proud of how you are growing up and so unbearably sad that this beautiful time we’ve shared must come to an end.

It’s a feeling I know well a year and a half into being your mother.  I will never forget the first time I went to put you into a pair of newborn sized, footie pajamas and you simply didn’t fit.  Your little shoulders were pushing at the neckline and your tiny (but not so tiny as before) toes were bent against the ends of the footies.

It was an amazing and terrible moment.  I sat on the floor of the bedroom in our apartment and cried and cried.  You were only six weeks old!  How did it happen so fast???  Since then, I can’t even count the number of times you’ve grown out of something I specifically remember looking at and thinking it would take forever for you to grow into.

I love being your mama.  I am so proud of your curiosity, intelligence, strength, and independence.  It’s been my absolute pleasure to give you every opportunity I can to learn so you can do life on your own one day.  And it’s heartbreaking having to say goodbye to a version of you I love so deeply and will never see again without looking at a photograph.

That said, my sweet Sunshine, every time my heart is broken in goodbye, it’s put back together with love that just gets bigger and more as you get bigger and more.  Regardless of how much or little you ever need me, I will always be here.    After all, if you and I are anything like me and my mother (that’s Granny Bee, to you), you’ll be calling about how to make the biscuits, how to get that stain out, and just for giggles over mimosas long after you’re out in the world, making your own way.  : )

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My Prayer

Before you read this post, I’d like to make it clear that in no way am I saying adoptive parents cannot love their children as much as biological parents or that fathers cannot love their children as much as mothers can.  This post is about the depth and breadth of the connection between a parent and their child.  How you come into that connection is of no consequence to me.  I just happen to be writing it from a mother’s perspective, because, well, that’s what I am and so that’s what I know.  Enjoy!  : )

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My connection to you was instant.  When you were born and they placed you on my belly, I could only say “oh, honey” over and over again.  I had one hand on your sticky back and another around your tiny bottom and no moment in my life has ever felt so precious as that one.  I carry that crystal clear memory in my heart, another copy in my soul, and yet another copy in my mind, to ensure it’s never lost.

My understanding of that sweet, unbearably strong connection has taken more time.  I have slowly come to realize the true magnitude of the job on my shoulders and instead of feeling overwhelmed or terrified, I see that no one on this earth could possibly do it better than me.

This feeling–this lovely, silent secret known only to us, enables me to show you unconditional love so you will recognize it and can give it yourself one day.  It makes me the one you trust first and most and gives me the patience and determination to take care of that trust so you will know how it feels and be trustworthy yourself one day.   It fills me with a grace unlike anything I’ve felt before (since I was a child myself and felt it from my own mother and father, that is)–a grace I give you every day with soft eyes and gentle hands so that you will understand how to both give and receive forgiveness one day.  That is the terrible beauty of parenthood–beautiful because there is no bond stronger, that can accomplish so much and terrible because I have never experienced such awful fear as my fear at the thought of losing or being lost to you.

That is my only prayer, my only wish these days–that you and I get to keep each other.  It happens all the time, just watch the news–mothers who have lost their children and children who have lost their mothers.  We are fortunate to have such an amazing, loving, and dependable village.  I know that if anything were to happen to me you would know love, you would be treasured, and raised well . . . but it wouldn’t be the same.  And I cannot even contemplate losing you in words.  There’s a great, black hole in my mind where that horror lives and I never look directly at it for fear of giving it substance.

When they strike, these fears, I imagine all of the adventures we have yet to go on, all of the memories we’re going to make, all of things I’m going to tell you, and all of the things you’re going to tell me.  And then I send it up, the same prayer every time:

Please, God, let us keep each other . . .

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Where the Time Went . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memories

My sweet Sunshine, you are currently rifling through a box full of spices in the kitchen, tasting some containers before dropping them at your feet, while others are tossed over your shoulder without so much as a cursory glance.  I’m not certain of your criteria, but you do seem to have a system.  I love to watch you explore–touching and tasting absolutely everything–cataloguing your environment with the precision and care of a scientist.

I folded and put away most of your nine month footies today because the necklines are beginning to stretch and your tiny toes are pressing uncomfortably against the feet.  It hurts every time–putting away bits of the present that somehow, without my noticing right away, became the past.  It is so strange that these moments which are molding and redefining me as a person and a mother, you will not remember.

You will not remember how I shrieked with joy when you took your first, wobbly steps or how I cried in relief and squeezed you tight after fishing that wad of drool-soaked paper out of your mouth.  You will not remember crawling around the yard, picking dandelions and trying to eat pebbles under my watchful eye.  You will not remember dancing in front of the oven door, giggling at your reflection.  You will not remember the way you turn diaper changes into the baby version of a greased pig contest.  You will not remember throwing all the spices out of the box.  And you will not remember your silly mama, sitting at the kitchen table, crying while she writes you love letters from your babyhood.

And oh how I love you, my baby.  Though our time together this way is short, one day, in the not so distant future, we’ll be making memories you can keep.  Until then, I will continue writing (and crying) you a path back through the years to the curious, determined, and much-loved baby you are so that while you may not remember, you can at least have a glimpse of your sweet, small self through your mama’s eyes.

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Morning Mama Thoughts

My favorite thing about her ability to crawl and stand up is watching her choose where she would like to go and what she would like to do when she gets there.  She used to be limited to where we put her or what toys we presented her with, and now another layer of her personality is coming through.

My least favorite thing about her ability to crawl and stand up is that there are now roughly 10,762 new and exciting ways for her to accidentally maim/injure/kill herself.  I have nicknamed her “suicidal octopus” because I swear she has eight, lightning-fast arms and they’re all reaching for something dangerous!

We are getting closer to the end of nursing and I’m both excited and sad.  On one hand, I will be SO happy to be able to wear whatever I want without thinking about how hard/easy it will be to nurse in.  On the other hand, because my wild child is always on the go, nursing time has been our snuggle time and I wonder if/how she will snuggle when there’s no need to stop and snack in my arms.

I think about my parents all the time.  Having a child of my own puts an entirely different spin on so many of my memories.  Like when I was twelve and I was riding my horse bareback, with a bridle I made out of baling twine and jumping the irrigation canal/all the irrigation pipe in the field.  If I remember right, my dad was supposed to be watching me, but he had to go handle a work emergency so mom came to pick me up.  She was terrified of horses and I remember seeing her white knuckles on the fence as we thundered up the way.  I have always thought that story was hilarious.  Now I can actually imagine the worry and fear she must have felt that I would be hurt.  To my  mother’s credit, she did not punish me; she signed me up for jumping lessons.  : )

Another hilarious thinking of my mom moment came when I was exiting the restroom and passed a woman and her young son going in together.  It struck me for the very first time that my mother actually taught me to use the bathroom!!!!  Thanks, mom.  : )

I am so happy to finally be in a permanent living space.  Every situation we’ve been in since she was born has been temporary.  She’s been shuttled across the country multiple times, spent countless hours in the car while we looked for vehicles, then apartments, then houses.  She seems pretty happy wherever we are, but I think she’ll feel the difference as we get settled.

A lovely friend sent me a lovely book (The Magic of Motherhood) and though it’s hard to find time to read, my favorite line from the early chapters is, “Your body will be a home to your children.”  How very true.  My body doesn’t look or feel quite the way it did before my Sunshine came along but there is no place where she feels as safe and comfortable as my arms.  No other body will do, it’s only mine that gives her such peace and security–how beautiful is that?

She is swinging in the living room, fast asleep while I sip coffee and write.  Occasionally, I look up and her face swings into view.  If I had known before getting pregnant just how much I would feel as a mother, I might have chosen another path.  It’s frightening sometimes, the depth and breadth of it.  What I know now that she’s here is that I’d feel it all a thousand times for just one of her sunny smiles.

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Tiny Stranger

She wears purple and ocean colors–my favorites.  She goes on long walks with me and we visit the alpacas at the end of the lane, the coyotes and elk in the field, and the neighborhood horses.  She loves milk and staring at ceiling fans but intensely dislikes being swaddled and chirps like a little bird when she’s first waking up.  Beyond these things . . . well, I know very little.

She is our tiny stranger–depending upon us for her every need while at the same time confidently demanding food, snuggles, and entertainment.  I soak in her baby smiles and sleepy chirps knowing she will continue to change at a pace I’d heard about, but only came to understand in the two months, four pounds, and four inches since her sunny, Sunday arrival in July.

It is strange to think that I’ve been with her every moment of her existence yet hardly know her at all, and it is both lovely and bizarre to realize I won’t for years to come.
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Flying with a Newborn: A Comprehensive List : )

I don’t know about all new moms, so I’ll just speak for myself, but the day my little girl was born is the day I became a high-functioning agoraphobic.  I will never forget standing up from the wheelchair after handing her up to Carl and watching him buckle her into her car seat, then clip the car seat into its base.  She looked so incredibly small and fragile and I couldn’t stand to let her out of my sight, so I sat in the backseat where I could monitor every sound and breath.

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Then, when we arrived home and got her settled into the house, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking “Excellent!  Now let’s never leave here again.”

Buuuuut apparently, life happens and, at some point, for instance two days later, you’ll at least have to go to a doc appointment.  I was a wreck when we had to venture out that second time, even worse than coming home from the hospital.  I criticized every little thing about my husband’s driving: he was going too fast, he surely couldn’t see the car braking in front of us, he was turning too sharply, etc.  I sat next to her in the back and tucked two fingers under her harness so I could feel her breathe.  I didn’t even recognize myself.  I’ve never felt so intensely worried at a time when absolutely nothing was going wrong in my entire life.

Which is why I’m not even sure what made me think I could do it (looking back, I don’t think I thought it through at all, to be honest) but when our girl was born nearly two weeks late, we had only about two weeks together as a brand new family, complete with lots of visits and interruptions, before my husband had to take off for the east coast and start his new career.  The week before he started his new job, we realized we simply had not had enough time just being together, the three of us.  So we bought a plane ticket for the baby and I to follow him a week after left.

I didn’t really start to panic until a few days before we were scheduled to fly.  But, just as it was hitting me like a ton of bricks, I got a phone call.  It was my Identical Cousin offering to fly from where she was on business to Idaho for the sole purpose of accompanying the baby and I on our cross country trek.  This brings me to the first item on my list of things to bring if you’re crazy enough to fly with a newborn.

  1. A Good Friend

    Now, it’s important that you don’t bring just any good friend.  Make sure you bring a friend who will provide more than a pair of helpful hands, good conversation, and support for whatever random situations arise.  I recommend bringing a friend who can take a screaming infant in stride, find humor in just about any scenario,  and not only won’t judge you for wanting a beer before you board, but will also order it, pay for it, and squeeze the lime for you because your hands are full.  Bring a friend who orders you food even though when they asked if you were hungry, the baby was crying and you were heading for a  bathroom and said you were fine.  Bring a friend who doesn’t care when/where you need to breastfeed (if you’re breastfeeding) and who has creative ideas to help avert disaster.  Bring a friend who’s in it for the long haul and doesn’t get cranky even after seven hours in the air and a four hour delay resulting in an arrival time of 4a.m.  And finally, bring a friend who can take a potentially terrifying, stressful, physically demanding, insane journey and turn it into a fun, hilarious, adventure full of great memories, pictures, and lessons learned.  I’m lucky to have someone who not only fits the above description to a T, she also volunteered.  : )
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  2. Car Seat/Stroller

    Both of these items can be checked at the gate if you plan to use them before boarding or during your layover (you’ll want to specify at the gate if you want them for your layover or they won’t be available until you reach your final destination.  I didn’t bring a stroller and had no regrets because our baby is so small, she’s relatively easy to lug around and it didn’t seem worth the trouble for me.  The car seat, on the other hand, is essential because you will need it to take your baby wherever you want to go after the airport.  In our case, my husband bought a separate base for his car so I just brought the car seat itself.  We gate checked it on the way over, but if you have no reason to use it in between, I recommend checking it with your baggage.  It doesn’t count as one of your bags and this way you don’t have to carry it any further than is absolutely necessary–they’re heavy!

  3. The Diaper Bag (back pack style is my preference)

    I brought all the little things I always keep in there (i.e. diapers, wipes, diaper cream, thermometer, snot sucker, muslin baby blanket, burp cloth, gas relief drops, emery board extra baby clothes, a few mini garbage bags, lanolin (for me! ; ), and a little, fold up mat for changing her on random surfaces.  My diaper bag came with one, but if yours didn’t, no worries, a little blanket will do or they even sell little mats that will absorb but not leak.

  4. Baby Carrier

    This is the reason I prefer the back pack style diaper bag for traveling. I wore the baby on my front in her carrier and the diaper bag on my back.  This way, I had my hands free in between flights, I could wear her into the restroom when necessary (when I flew alone), and she sleeps like a dream every time I put her in it.

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  5. Changes of Clothing for Yourself

    I don’t know about you, but after experiencing one, simultaneous vomit and blowout, situation, both of which ending up all over me, I now bring a change of clothes with me EVERYWHERE.  For this trip, we put our lightest shirts and yoga pants so they would take up minimal space in the diaper bag and be as lightweight as possible.  If you are nursing, you’ll want to include an extra nursing bra as well.  I picked a padded, nighttime for my extra so I could just roll it up and stuff it in.  : )

  6. Diaper Packs

    The diaper packs were my cousin’s genius invention!  They consist of one, mini garbage bag with a small ziplock bag containing 5 wipes, one diaper, and one large ziplock bag.  We made up five and set them on top of everything else in the diaper bag so if my daughter had a situation on the plane, I could just grab a diaper pack and head to the bathroom without having to dig around.  Also, once there, I could change her, put everything dirty in the garbage bag and toss it, but save her outfit in the large ziplock to seal in smell and wash when we got home.  The packs are not only great for airplanes, they’re great for roadtrips, hikes, and any other situation where you may not have immediate access to facilities. For the return trip, I added two, head to toe, baby cleansing cloths so that if she did throw up on me/herself, I could wipe us down before putting on clean clothes.

  7. Food

    On the way over, I had my cousin and she made sure that I was able to eat by grabbing us both food during our layover.  On the way back, I was alone but knowing it would be an all day trip and my newborn may not want to stand in line, wait for me to order, then cooperate while I ate, I decided to pack my lunch for the return flight.  My personal opinion here is to spoil yourself.  I packed a BLT that was LOADED with thick cut bacon because bacon makes me happy no matter what else is going on in my life.  I also packed a banana, goldfish crackers, a couple granola bars, a little bag of fresh blueberries, and a chocolate bar.  Make sure it’s something of substance, not just junk, you’ll need all your energy!  One other note about food, I packed it in the front of my diaper bag for easy access, but taking it one step further, when I boarded, I actually got my food out and put it in the seat back in front of me where I could reach it without disturbing my baby if she was sleeping and I could get it/open it/consume it using only one hand.  : )

  8. Boppy Pillow/Regular Pillow

    I know this seems like an annoying to carry around, useless addition.  I wasn’t planning on bringing it, but my cousin suggested that I go ahead and since she was going to be with me, I figured no harm as she could carry it.  That said, I ended up bringing it with me on the return flight as well despite being on my own because it was totally worth carrying it around!  About thirty minutes into the flight, my arms would have fallen off if I hadn’t had that pillow to lay her in/on in such a way that she could sleep comfortably without me having to hold her up.  I also used it to change her in our seat (do NOT use the tray table to change your baby, people eat off those!!!!) and I used it to safely lay her in the seat next to me when it was time to deplane so I could gather up my stuff before returning her to the carrier.  SO HANDY!
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  9. Odds and Ends

    I haven’t found gas relief drops very useful when I tried them in the heat of a gas related scream-fest.  However, when I gave our daughter a small dose after each feeding on the day we flew, I found that she had no gas trouble AT ALL.

    In order to stay hydrated but avoid having to pee while in the air, I drank as much water as I could the day of my flight but stopped liquids altogether about two hours before take off.  Then, during the flight, I got water from the flight attendants when they came around. It worked for me, I didn’t get dehydrated, but I also didn’t have to use the restroom during our 5 hour flight.  It wouldn’t have been impossible while flying alone, I’ve worn my baby in the restroom before, but the dimensions of an airplane bathroom were just not something I wanted to deal with.  ; )

    There are nurseries in airports where you can feed your baby, but they do not include a restroom.  There are handicap/family restrooms that have a large counter top-like surface with a safety bar where you can change your baby but they have nowhere to sit, other than the toilet for nursing.  And then there’s always the regular restroom, but I avoided it like the plague.  : )

    I bought a few books on my phone to stay entertained when flying by myself.  With my cousin, it was much more fun because I had someone to talk to the whole way.  : )

    We were not at all prepared, but when checking in for our very first flight, they required age verification.  We didn’t think we would need to prove that she was under two years of age because, well, at less than four weeks, we thought it was rather obvious.  However, they did, in fact, require us to provide proof of her birth date.  Thankfully, Southwest was flexible and allowed us to show them a screen shot of her online medical records showing her birth date.  So it might be a good idea to either bring a copy of your baby’s birth certificate or some other form of age verification.

  10. Take off and Landing

    I nursed as we took off and began to descend which seemed to eliminate any ear pressure issues (pacifiers/bottle feeding would serve the same purpose), but I only did that when she was awake.  Twice, we took off while she was sleeping and I let her sleep which did not seem to cause her any additional issues when she woke up.

  11. Upon Arrival

    For both trips, I asked that the people meeting me park and come in to help with juggling bags, car seats, etc.  Also, both trips, when we finally arrived, the baby was hungry and tired so I took her to the car and fed her while family grabbed our luggage.  Lastly, prepare for a a few days to a couple weeks worth of fussy, out of sorts baby if you have a full day of flying and change time zones.  Our sweet girl, who is such a happy little thing, had a terrible few days of crying, trouble sleeping, fussy eating, etc when we arrived.
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Just remember it’s a grand adventure!  And if things go awry, take a good look around and you’ll see that most people aren’t angry that your baby is crying or that you take a bit longer to get settled in your seat, etc.  Most people have either been there or know and love someone else who has and what they’re really thinking is that they remember those days or that you’re a rock star for hanging onto your sanity through this wild trip.  You’ll be amazed at how many people offer a helping hand or kind look as go about your business.  So have fun and make great memories to share with your own sweet one when they grow up.  : )
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The Night you Were Born

From the first contraction, I knew that night would be different.

I gathered my things, and left myself to meet you.

They said it could take a long time, but we both ignored them and focused on the distance between life and whatever comes before it that we all forget once we’ve left.

You were in between worlds, a place I never knew existed, yet somehow found with ease.

He couldn’t come along, but steadfast and silent, watched over us every step.

As the hours passed, I became the ocean–crashing waves rolling one into the next, and you, my little moon–pulling and pushing tides–guiding me to you, so I could guide you home.

There was a crescendo–a swelling of sound, a bending of space and time . . .

And then you were born–hot, purple, crying.

And a new part of me was born, too–fierce, tender, an unhealing wound.

We just held each other for the longest time because it was frightening and it hurt but we had made it together.

The rest of the day I wasn’t hungry, I couldn’t care about the aches or feel the exhaustion–I could only stare in awe of you.

And that, my little love, was how it went on the night you were born.  The very first of many wonderful, strange, and wild adventures to come.
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