Restored and returned, precious children.
On the eve of your birth, my beautiful son, celebrating the moment as if it still awaits me. Lavender oil bath, an opulent bubble in the starkness of the UCH nhs delivery 'suite' - sounding more like a hotel every moment..
You arrived next day, with a determined look that you still wear. You mean business. A precious timeless few hours in the delivery room, you, in my arms. The room floats and gently nudges the edges of the frame like a screensaver, soft and soundless. That incredible jesus woman, lowest rank probably in the scheme of things, who washed me as if in an act of devotion. I always wanted to thank her for that. We name you and tell you of your awaiting sister. You keep my gaze. And have done so ever since, steadily underlining the rational, the reason, the matter and fact of it all. Keeping me on the straight and narrow.
And you, my sweet girl, I feel I am at last with you. Aligned, and in line, with you. And in that, yes I am happy - a word I vowed I would never use again. I can never be happier than at those moments, when I had the two of you in my life, in my arms. The moment when you came to the hospital to see your baby brother, no sibling rivalry there. You were proud, excited, benignly generous in your immediate acceptance of him, you understood the place of things without any need for explanation. You were like a wise old thing. Without a doubt, I will never be happier. That's ok with me. Until I feel anything else , that is how it sits, and everything else is a bonus.
so - solitary and connected at the same time. Learning how to walk with you even though you are out of my physical sight. That, to get here, has burst my heart and brain to breaking point. And here I am now, in a sort of calm lake, cradling you both. So - here I am, verging on my half-century, with two children who both, in this life , are 7 years old....
Your mother in love,
xx
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