to you, my little you, so fulla you-ness and spunk. i’ve been meaning, my you, to put it all down, in scribbles or sketches, to document.record.remember it all. cuz they all said “oh, it goes by so fast,” and,
it does. who knew? it truly truly does.
bam! i was pink-plus-sign pregnant. hoarking and headachey. disbelieving and scared. unsure, the mouth of my brain gaping, open.wet.raw in a perpetual spinning shriek.
bam! i was little-bump-of-bear pregnant. glowy. pretty. curious and loud. still scared. travelling 30 hours of third-world-country transportation both ways to prove i was still me.
bam! i was massively pregnant. braver now. braver now, maybe, to the point of just the smallest bit of taking baby-free-ness fer granted. maybe. who knew the night that one moans and groans and can’t-this-effing-baby-just-come-already-cuz-there’s-NOTHING-to-do-and-i’ve-already-watched-ALL-our-movies—twice would be the night that you would be born.
bam! you were born. purple and slippery, with yer sweet open mouth and black black hair. you were born, and
bam! i became.a mother.i became.
and, sweet child, there have been so many bams in between then and now, you are almost two and on the very farthest side of baby. the side of baby that is so far, in fact, that yer really not a baby at all any more, but a little boy and i am left, clutching my face, clutching my heart, pleading to a very big universe “wait. wait! i finally just processed the fact that i was pregnant! SLOW DOWN. please. just slow down.” and, oh my, how alla that pleading is simply to no avail.
so here i am.
a bit late on the uptake (cuz that’s how we roll, bear of mine), but unequivocally, inescapably here. and one day, my son, i hope you can come here too. i hope you can come here, too, and see that yer mama, though sometimes random and sometimes busy and sometimes screamy, was always doing her best to pay attention.