Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Nine months in, nine months out

Dear sister,

Your niece is the most amazing tiny human that exists in this world.  I might be biased. 

My bundled berry is 9 months old.  That means she has spent as much time oxygenating herself via her lungs as she did receiving oxygen via the placenta from my lungs.

Every so often I am, once again, suddenly struck by the reality that I grew her.

I remember when she was first born, I was so enamored of her elbows.  The first time I ran my fingertips over her bent and pointy tiny newborn elbows, there was an immediate recognition.  I had spent months feeling them from the inside.  My favorite spot moves now, sometimes it is her hairline at the nape of her neck, sometimes her busy curious fingers.  But always it is accompanied with the incredible awe that somehow, through some wisdom so far outside of my conscious control, I provided the building blocks that grew her wee cartilaginous bones, that grew her so soft skin, that grew her toenails, and her eyes that change from her father's brown to my hazel depending on who is looking into them.

She is enamored of food.  And eating more of it every day.  So many foods, though not nut butters yet as I am terrified by the modern epidemic of life-threatening nut allergies.  All the vegetables, all the fruits, yogurt, eggs, bread, beans and rice.  She loves salmon.  Loves it.  And gobbled down a bit of caribou the other night.

As she eats more and more food, I become that much more acutely aware of how up until very recently, it was my body that exclusively nourished her.  First via the placenta.  Then via my milk.  Still via my milk, and still for a long while I will directly nourish her.  But as she takes in nutrients from the world, unfiltered through my body, it somehow puts it in stark relief that until now it has been me.  

I want to ask, incredulous, "how is that even possible?!?!" But I know it in my bones to be the most pragmatic practical normal thing in the world.  And I know it in my heart to be the most miraculous divine mystery in the world.

Nine months.  Three threes.  Triskele upon triskele upon triskele.  Twice over.

love you,

1 comment: