Saturday, October 24, 2009

One Month Old

Day 1: You emerge into the world, looking altogether like you’d rather go back to the cozy, dark, fluid familiarity of my womb. There you are, a whole human being, filling the empty space in my arms, emptying the full space of my belly. A whole person who just minutes…. hours before… had been tucked deep away inside me. I savor the smell of you, newly born. There is no scent on earth that is as delicious to me as you are – you smell of earth, of life.

Day 3: Your eyes peek open, surrounded by swollen creases yet eyes bright and shining through. It is not altogether unreasonable to say that you look alien like, and indeed, you are a brand new visitor in a foreign world. You look at me as if to say, oh, hi, it’s you who has carried me and nurtured me and loved me these long months. It’s you.

Day 5: You begin to unfurl your long, skinny limbs. I hold your hand; it is fully relaxed to the side, for the first time. I watch you stretch. I recognize your stretch when I see it; it’s the visual accompaniment to the movement I felt when you were rolling around my belly. You are trying out, testing out each limb, in a way that you’ve refused to do until now – tightly crunched in your fetal hold. You stretch, trusting that the world will be there to hold and support you. Trusting, at least, that mom or dad will be there. And we are. Here we are.

Day 10: You stretch your legs out straight, hold them high in the air as if to say, look. Look at me. Look at what I can do. Look at what I am doing with these skinny little parts of me. You are so proud of this tiny accomplishment. I am, too. One more time you stretch them long and tall at me.

Day 14: Your fuzzy, unfocused eyes try desperately to make sense of the features of my face. You know me now, know my voice and my smell and my laughter and my tears. You stare at me while nursing, while snuggling, while quietly gazing in my direction, seeming to want to know who I am yet already knowing me inside, now outside. In your constantly needy, demanding state, it is the first “I love you” I hear you say. I recognize you, you’re my mama, I love you, you say with those fuzzy unfocused eyes.

Day 21: We spend quiet minutes studying each other. You stretch, you show off your length and your ease with your limbs. You clutch my shirt, grasp at my neck as I snuggle your tiny body, breathe in the milky scent of your skin, your breath. I take deep gulps of you and still can’t get enough.

Day 28: You are one month old. One whole month, which feels both like forever and just yesterday all at once. I cannot imagine our lives without you in it. Today you accidentally catch sight of your hand waving near your face. You are captivated, astounded by the simple discovery. Watching you, I take for granted the marvel of moveable limbs.

I am watching you. All these days, I am watching you and recording you and savoring every bit of you. As you cry, I study your features, your expression, your angry little face, your gummy mad mouth. You smile at me, accidentally, and your happiness infects me in that moment. You sleep. Nothing is more beautiful than watching you in peace-filled sleep. Nothing is more beautiful than you, tiny you, one month old you. Forever and just yesterday, you are here. Here you are.


Nurse Jeff said...
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Nurse Jeff said...

so poetic, so beautiful...