somehow, miracle of miracles, my husband and i now have this little human who supposedly resembles us, who is our family, who shares our name...
elias is our child. i birthed him out of myself. i am a mother, a mama, a mommy.
still in disbelief, i recite these phrases at least a dozen times a day.
labor started like any other afternoon of braxtons, but surprisingly the contractions started gaining momentum with each hour. i was humbled to my knees just a couple hours later. torrential pain. i felt it all. i felt as my body pressured down, tightened, flexed within me. there was vomiting -- periods of falling asleep in between the crescendos of pressure -- splashing with dramatic repositioning in the tub -- moaning and much repetition of "i think i'm going to die." labor is survival. the body of the woman is amazing. fully dilated and effaced with my waters still intact i was instructed to rotate from my hands and knees to my right side - back and forth like an out-of-water-whale i maneuvered with shameless lack of composure to try and rotate my child's position. my husband remained calm and collected, faithful by my side, not coaching, but wonderfully present. intensity heightened. my fingers and lips tingled with each over zealous breath. on my hands and knees my water drained with a surge. mess. mess and pressure. no further sense of when contractions were rising and falling -- all had become pressure and an urgency to bring forth child. and child was delivered, healthy, cone headed, plump. everything changed. i had naively imagined a slow, progressive birth process in a calm setting with interludes of music, photography and journaling between contractions. far be it for me to imagine labor as it was - completely consuming and aggressive, leaving no excess of aesthetic energy.
with the first little cry - time, perspective, dreams, identity - life shifted.
the euphoria makes magic out of life.
after much prior hesitance, tim cut the cord.
i swelled with pride.
little fingers, long little toes. dark, abundant hair.
little lips and prominent nose. perfect little body. a new journey begun. a new story - sprawled upon my chest.
these first days have been filled with so much awe. with countless holy moments.the kind of moments that take your breath away, that sometimes spur anxiety for fear of how these treasures of moments so easily slip away -
never has there been such contentment with the present, such a tenacity for each day.
i could stare at this child all day and still be quite baffled that he is mine - and still be yet hungry for a little more time.
there is the fatigue that makes you want to hide away - or implode - but then there are the tender, perfectly quiet moments in the middle of the night - moments when it is just baby, mother, and jesus, swaying together. moments when he falls asleep on my breast, breathing softly, reflexing his fingers over mine.
of course, there are the fussy moments - the poopy moments - the tender breasts and constipated moments...
there are the anxious moments when the weight of this calling overwhelms...
there are tears with irrational fears about his welfare and whether or not i've yet "ruined him"...
then there's the joy of watching his eyes dart back and forth - of his little mouth movements and the way his yawns seem to end with little kisses...
there are the heart quickening moments when daddy holds the child close, bounces, burps and sings to the babe - and life seems perfect...
and i'm completely obsessed with him.
thank you Lord, for this most precious gift that is this son. help me to give him back to you each day.
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