...long before my husband and I moved back to SD from Portland
...long before we had children
...long before I knew my life's calling to birth work
...my dear husband bought me a book. He just thought it looked like something I would enjoy.....
Fast forward to about 2 years ago.
I picked up that book that had been through three moves (one across the country) and was then sitting on a bookshelf gathering dust for so many years. The title caught my eye because of some birth'y events I'd been a part of with the same name.
I began reading it and absolutely couldn't put it down. It was the first book in a LONG time that I'd read that didn't relate to childbirth, breastfeeding, parenting, or devotional/inspirational type topics. I read it just.for.fun.
There is now a Lifetime movie about that book. When I saw the trailer for it I decided to read it again before I watch the movie (which I will definitely do at some point).
I enjoyed it just as much the 2nd time around, and I'm sure I would enjoy it a 3rd and 4th time too.
I don't know if it was because this time when I read it I was so recently postpartum, or if it just struck me for a different reason, but there is a part in the book where the main character gives birth and the way she describes it is absolute perfection. I couldn't have stated it better myself, and I'm guessing you all would agree with me.
Check it out...
"Just as there is no warning for childbirth, there is no preparation for the sight of a first child. I studied his face, fingers, the folds in his boneless little legs, the whorls of his ears, the tiny nipples on his chest. I held my breath as he sighed, laughed when he yawned, wondered at his grasp on my thumb. I could not get my fill of looking.
There should be a song for women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name that moment. Like every mother since the first mother, I was overcome and bereft, exalted and ravaged. I had crossed over from girlhood. I beheld myself as an infant in my mother's arms, and caught a glimpse of my own death. I wept without knowing whether I rejoiced or mourned. My mothers and their mothers were with me as I held my baby."*
I (of course) teared up when I read it this time (I probably did the first time too, just don't remember). "There should be a song....." Such truth in that. There are no songs, no prayers, or recitations for us, though. Just the amazement and wonder of meeting our perfect little beings that have been with us for the past 40-ish weeks. The author is so right "there are no words strong enough".
From one mommy to another, I pray today you can relish the amazement and wonder that being a mama truly is, and that you can remember with fondness the first time you saw your precious little one.
*Excerpt taken from The Red Tent by Anita Diamant