Maya arrives

The slippery, warm entrails are slapped onto my stomach. As he cuts the cord I become two. My insides come outside became another. A pause as we sense each other, we feel our breath. Our skins fused together with warmth, blood and love.  Her lips tasting my skin, as I smell her hair. Cocooned in awe, we are floating. 

Now I am a deflated balloon, my belly wrinkled, the air passed into this new world before me. I am slipping into a warm sea of oblivion. I want my spent body to be swallowed up. I feel finished.

Her movement brings me back as a wave lifts me, flops me onto the shore, panting with exhaustion and relief. The warm sun rays of love prick my skin until I am glowing with peace and purpose. I feel complete.

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I dont want to turn this blog into a motherhood and babies space, but that was my initial reaction to my daughter's arrival. Sylvia Plath describes this with more elegance:

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety.  We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses.  I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's.  The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars.  And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.