“Lyric, my song
Lyric, my son
I waited so long”.
First three verses of a spontaneous, unfinished lullaby to my son, Lyric.
June 27, 2010
Dear little Lyric,
Two weeks and one day.
A few days ago, the hottest day of the year at 110 degrees.
Yesterday, the first birth we attended together outside my belly.
Tonight, your first full moon (though I’m sure you felt her tidal pull in your womb of waters).
Tomorrow, more kisses atop your mostly bald – but oh so soft – head. The head that my hands cupped as you emerged from deep in my body.
Lyric, I am in deep in it…deep in love with you: your mellow quietude, your perceptive slate blue eyes, your round chin and supple cheeks. Your baby aroma – all mamamilk and wombscent and probably some baby poop – is truly eyes-closed intoxicating. Mothering you comes so blissfully easy, second nature really.
We spend our time together staring at each other’s faces and giggling and nursing and singing and nuzzling and burping and dabbing your spit-up and conversing with your sisters and noticing over and over how you look just like your Daddy.
Speaking of your Daddy, he has been instrumental in our Babymoon, in honoring this time of bonding and learning and sharing and falling in love over and over and over again. He wakes up with your sisters each morning and lets us sleep in together, you nestled against my chest. And he, my son, is totally over the moon that you have Arrived. And to watch him fall in love with you has been a gift.
I sing it, and the way the words feel as they form in my throat is delicious. I squeal it, shout it, whisper it in your ear: my son.
It is still surreal. Still magical that I grew you from a microscopic seed, that you came to know my body as a safe haven, that I felt you expand inside the uterus that also grew your sisters.
It is still mystifying that you chose to be born head-first, unlike your sisters. And oh how I felt it, your head against my cervix, pressing like the weight of the world to make your passage swift and torrential
It is still a blur, in many ways, your birth. Too fast for my mortal body and mind to process completely. Too little time and endorphins. And yet, how perfect that you chose such a birth that brought me to my knees in humility.
Your birth spiraled me inside out, had me giving my perceived power over to the Force of You.
And in those moments of powerlessness was utter freedom. A kind I’d never known before. Terrifying, on some level. Terrific too. Honest and humming with primordial energy.
You birthed me, Lyric.
That is the honest truth.
“You are so beautiful. Oh my god, so very beautiful. I love you so much”, Those were among the very first words I sobbed to you as I held your slippery body in my arms for the first time (I still cry often when I hold you and stare into your eyes).
Our spirits connect in a way that is new to me and the only word I can conjure is Beautiful. Beautiful you. Beautiful boy. Beautiful son.
Thank you for choosing to come to us.
You’ve added an extra layer of Joy to this house, indeed a little Prince to your doting sisters.
You are the shape of my heart, Lyric.
I love you, Mama