one

you came after 42 weeks -12 days late, firmly Libran

 

 

 

 

 

 

and there you were

pink, plump, perfectly smooth, calm and carried

straight out of the water, a water baby from birth.

one does not seem a big enough number to encompass you.

all of the things you now know, now are,

making it impossible to see you as smaller, newer, less.

a birth story is a right. we tell it over and over.

we share it secretly, proudly, theatrically.

we share it quietly in the dead of night when no one is listening

but this is not it. this is a year outside.

a year of becoming, right before me, and yet somehow

still not separate from me.

a year of breastfeeding.

a year of carrying you in my arms, or in your sling, everywhere.

a year of sleeping nose to nose, mouth to breast, legs curled together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

learning, but mostly unlearning so much. what I thought I knew, of who I thought I was.

two births then – you, and me.

you are entitled. my body still an extension of yours

to climb over, to hold onto, to let go of

still mine and never mine, too, grateful to be here for you and see it all,

to find new ways of carrying you

 

 

 

 

 

 

all the while learning To Let Go, To Keep It Simple

all the while dreaming of big plans

What country, What adventures, What schooling

but for now, you.

so very clever so very beautiful in all of your Ava-ness.

(you were always meant for me, and me for this, for you)

my sweet October babe, happy birthday to you.

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About Kendal

I'm Kendal Mosley-Chalk. I live in York with my husband and two children.
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