For Kendell
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The first time my eyes met yours, it was like falling into deep dark wells of chocolate. In that one moment I ceased to be a child and became a mother. That transition was never easy, but it was never one I regretted either. I remember sitting there worrying because they had taken you away immediately after you were born. I saw the doctor whisk over to the basinet this silent child mottled in red and blue. I could see the shock of your dark hair and your pinched face. You were so quiet, but I was so tired. I had been trying to push you out of my womb for almost three hours and when you finally decided to make your entry into this world, I was exhausted.
“What’s wrong?” I asked the nurse left behind as the rest bundled you up and rushed you out, your grandmother hurrying after in their wake.
“Nothing to worry about honey, he’s having a little trouble breathing and they just want to take care of that.”
Strangely I wasn’t worried. Maybe it was the bone deep weariness pulling its cloak over my eyes, or most likely it was the fact that your grandmother was with you. I knew deep in my marrow that nothing would happen under her watch.
I had read all kinds of baby books before you were born; it was natural to pick up a book when I had questions. In each of those books it was stressed about the importance of bonding with your child after birth, it was two hours after you had been born and I had yet to hold you, your grandmother had gotten to, coming back with stories of how strong you were, how alert, but here I was empty armed and empty bellied. I felt very alone without your little heartbeat pulsing beneath my skin.
When they brought you to me you were bundled up so tight with a little cream cap pulled up to a point, my little football player. Your face chubbed out over the blanket, your lips bowed into a pout; I had never seen anyone so beautiful as you.
“Well hello Kendell,” I said. “I’m your mommy.”
Your eyes opened to my voice as you tracked the movement of my lips.
“Chocolate, you’re eyes are the color of melted chocolate.” I pulled you close and we stared at one another till your eyes drooped and you gave in to the insistent call of the sandman.
I laid you in my lap and examined each inch of you. I loved your toes; small little piglets on perfectly miniature feet. When I nestled your little head under my chin and rocked you close to my heart, I finally knew what belonging felt like.
You gave me a purpose that I had been lacking, directions in a world that had once been a vast wilderness where I had no map. It was in that moment that I became someone worth knowing, because of you my little boo bear, because of you.
link | posted by Kara at 7/12/2007 10:17:00 AM
7 Comments:
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Augs Casa had this to say:
Well done, well said.
- 11:37 AM, July 12, 2007
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had this to say:
What a wonderful post Kara. Any boy with a mom as great as you is not only lucky, but going to grow up to be a wonderful man.
- 8:39 AM, July 13, 2007
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Carrie had this to say:
Beautiful. Almost makes me want to cry.
- 8:40 AM, July 13, 2007
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Deech had this to say:
Funny how kids seem to do that. Why my ex saw our kids as burdens I will never know.
Flyinfox_SATX- 8:55 PM, July 13, 2007
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had this to say:
Perfectly sweet.
- 9:09 PM, July 18, 2007
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TamWill had this to say:
There is not another euphoric feeling that even comes remotely close to that of seeing your child for the first time.
Wonderful post...even if it brought tears to me eyes.- 9:56 AM, August 01, 2007
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ƒåυνέ had this to say:
I miss you!!
If you have nothing to blog about, check my site. I had tagged you for a meme.- 12:03 PM, August 07, 2007
