If you were sitting next to me and not with me I would hear a long outbreath and see the slunch of shoulders.
I sort of made a promise during the last labor.
This will be the last time, I whispered to my muscles and bones moving, crunching, shifting around.
But then again, that’s not the first time I’ve told that lie.
And I have seen those grey hairs, shining in the light when I find the time to brush my hair.
Wisdom the eldest tells me.
Is that you cackling in the backround?
I know you’re exhausted and how long has this sore throat hung on? A week? Two?
I have forgotten, but I know you haven’t.
The space between us, the brain and body is lessening. Soon to be working together again.
Somehow we forget what the other is capable of.
When it is time to rest, eat, call it quits for the day and lie down.
When tackling that last argument between siblings, listening to others woes, setting one more thing to rights.
I promise you a day of tea, sweets, covered over by a duvet with only our reading eyes doing the work.
Soon, soon. Before the real work begins.
Till then hang in there.
Remember. Use those muscles, not those.
The light at the beginning of the next tunnel is in sight.
Remember how much fun it is to eat and eat and eat and eat during those early months of nursing?
Holding a little velveteen small of our making?
Listening to the funny little laugh, the sighing?
Waddling will become walking again.
Changing clothing no longer a chore and nightime wakings will not be of our own makings.
You may not believe it but spring is on it’s way. No, it really is.
There won’t be mounds of clothing piled on you much longer.
Soon the water will run, the blossoms will open and we will have a brand new.
What exactly do you think all this has been for?
p.s. I promise with a capital P to take Tylenol for the after birth pains the first few days and leave the homeopathy for just a bit. Really. I have learned my lesson.