becoming...

4 weeks + 6 days – since Farryn was born. Since I became a mama. And Scott a papa. Having a newborn is so much more than the birth of the child. It's also our collective birth as parents... a re-birth of our relationship and figuring out who we are individually, and as a family, with these emerging identities. The three of us are in our infancy navigating a whole new understanding of the world. We're enthralled and overwhelmed and tender and vulnerable and deliriously tired and ecstatically happy. It's a trip.

family snuggles 

I knew the postpartum period would feel vulnerable. But I completely underestimated how tender and exposed I'd feel. I know vulnerability. I've done so much work since losing my mom, paired with years of infertility; to survive, I had to get comfortable with sitting in, and openly sharing, my vulnerability. 

But, now, I walk around like my skin has been flayed off. My heart is outside of my body. And everyone is able to gawk at my insides – my loose muscles (just being honest) and my tender organs. I am wholly exposed. And the one person I want to talk to about my new motherhood is no longer here. The one person who can make me feel enveloped in pure love is gone.

In this tender vulnerability, I yearn for my mama with a revived ferocity. The grief is back in full force, but it's taken a new shape. I am mourning what could, or what should, have been. She should be here to help me through this monumental transition. To give me love. To shower me with compliments and tell me what a good job I am doing, or at least trying to do. To help guide me when I feel lost or disconnected or unsure. My mama was infamous for saying what was on her mind – whether that was loving words of adoration or much needed re-grounding advice. I am desperate for her now. She should be here to be Nana to Farryn. To hold my sweet, precious girl in her arms... what I wouldn't give to see that today. 

My mama & I

I remember thinking it was cruel that Aunty Annie (the lady who adopted my mama) died before meeting either Cri or me. My mom so desperately wanted to be a mama and she would have loved to share that experience with the woman who rescued her from the orphanage and loved her unconditionally. And now here I am... in that exact same position. For years I wanted to give my mama a grandchild; and maddeningly so, it wasn't in the cards for us to experience together. I find that cruel. When I look down at Farryn in my arms, I am devastated that she'll never know her Nana. The fierce pain hits me square in the gut and actually takes my breath away.

At Farryn's one month check-up with the pediatrician today, the doctor asked me how I was doing... like, really doing. I told her that everything is going well, but the grief of unexpectedly losing my mom last year is fresh and difficult. She kindly listened and offered her condolences. And then told me in her Indian culture they believe in reincarnation and that souls come back to us. Perhaps my mom will reincarnate in Farryn... oh, we can only hope.