You chose a strange time to be born,
flowing forth on waters clear and salty like the sea.
but then, so did I.
A time of change,
a period of instability.
There was a time when we thought we’d stay alone, childless.
The world’s so full, we said. And broken.
But yet, even as the words left my mouth, I carried the idea of you
tucked inside my heart, right near the place that you would one day grow.
And as the years went by,
I could feel you getting closer,
But we were the ones who needed readying.
No one could prepare us for how perfect you’d be,
how tiny your hands, how soft your feet.
I was scared.
The night I went into labor,
I felt my belly tightening.
I timed it silently on the clock.
10 minutes. tighten. 10 minutes. tighten.
But still I wasn’t sure.
I woke up, took a bath, made a peanut butter sandwich,
and still, the rhythm, faster now,
7 minutes, tighten. 7 minutes, tighten.
We called the midwife.
She came, she left.
My water broke.
I vacuumed the floor.
And then the pain began.
Breathtaking in intensity,
solid, a thing all its’ own.
And then, everything a blur.
Contractions, very hard, and very fast.
Me, clinging to your Daddy,
And then you,
swept here on a tidal wave of pain,
and water, and love.
Delivered at home.
Much smaller than I expected,
with skinny arms and legs.
With you in my arms,
one of our midwives showed us your placenta,
described the way
you were fed, and sheltered, and held,
by the intricate branching pattern,
of capillaries and veins,
your tree of life.
You were brave,
to choose this time,
when so much needs fixing,
and the answers are not clear.
I trust you know what you’re doing,
that there is some reason for your sweet life
during this slow, and painful collapse.
When you were born the birds sang for you,
the trees whispered your name,
and the sun rose pink in the Eastern sky.
And we were made whole,
me, and your daddy,
You are so loved, our sweet Revel.
Thank you for choosing us.
It is my greatest honor,
to be your mom.