2. Ice moon
Okay, not quite ice but we did recently go through some very cold temperatures here in Santa Cruz. The moon the other night looked yellow and glowing above our house. All three of us went out to see it.
“Voy a tosser,” she said, and marched over to the bathroom. *cough cough*
A moment later she returned to me and said, “Vení, Mamá, para hacer esto” and made a stroking motion in the air. I got up off the couch and came with her to the bathroom, crouching next to her as she sat on the stool in front of the toilet and ‘coughed.’ I stroked her back the way she had stroked mine five minutes earlier when I was the one throwing up, and for real. So I guess this is where we’re at, ‘playing’ morning sickness. It certainly makes it a little bit more bearable.
Just before I ran to the bathroom, Andrew commented, “You’re almost halfway through your pregnancy.” That must have been what put me over the edge. My sister-in-law, upon hearing the news months ago, had said, “This time will be different.” And it has been, but not in the way I had hoped. I still feel nauseous often and was throwing up at least every other day until I started taking medication. Now it’s just - just! - every few days or so, at any time of day. I look forward to the day when I will be beyond this, and then I think about what it’ll take to get me there: childbirth. And then what comes after: long nights of nursing and rocking while nursing a healing body. When does it let up? When does it get easy? Or, at least, when does this still-new mom sleep through the night?
And yet. Being Lydia’s mamá has been, without a doubt, the delight of my life. I have given up so much, and she has filled me up in ways I will never be able to express.
I was thinking recently about all the sensations of motherhood. About the nausea and the sore nipples met by the searching mouth of a toddler in the night and the little hand that sometimes strokes my side as she feeds with a gentleness that could only come from a half-asleep child and the quickenings - they call them - of another child who I am just coming to know and who will demand more and more of me until, one day, will demand nothing of me at all.
And mortality. How can one mother without fearing death? (Please, if you know, do share.) The absolute wonder of bringing a new life into the world seems to be paired with an equal and opposite fear of losing them. But this is what we do, this is how we carry on. I hope this child will be a peace-bearer. Amen.
