TWO days old
Simple and fresh and fair from winter’s close emerging…
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter’d grass–innocent, golden, calm
as the dawn,
The spring’s first dandelion shows its trustful face.
Everett Jay Pearlman. Born April 2, 12:40 a.m. Weighed 8.56 ounces, 20.5 inches long.
I have never been so in love with anyone or so unaware of myself. It’s like I’m changing every minute, molding into my baby’s mother: sometimes that feels terrifying and other times, I feel as if I have finally arrived to where I’ve always wanted to be, home with a husband and baby.
I was just soaking in the bath, my tub filled with dried herbs that are supposed to heal my sore and aching body, and I kept crying as the warm flowing water covered and comforted what feels like post-birth blues.
Cradling my cheeks in the support of my hands, I hung my head limped and somewhat lifeless, wondering why you aren’t here to meet Everett…why you cannot witness me as a newly born mother. Where will I tell him you’ve gone? How will I explain why you are not here? Because I myself can’t even answer those tormenting questions.
This should be the most thrilling time of my life. And yet, I haven’t missed you this much since the initial loss.
But I can already feel my baby’s love starting to heal my still broken pieces. Every space in my body and mind is continually filling with the thought and smell and feeling of my child. Life prior to him already feels impossible trying to imagine, like there’s a permanently marked “before” and “after” Everett rift in my years, and suddenly, I know nothing about my person will ever be the same.
I’ve already taken too much time to write—Everett is sleeping downstairs in Nana’s arms and I want to rest while I have the opportunity. I just felt like I needed to talk, even if writing to you in a journal is somewhat make-believe.
I’m so glad he’s a boy (and all that time I was so convinced of a girl). He is perfect–absolutely perfect.