Monday, March 26, 2007

nest and egg.

I miss you so much. So terribly lonely right now-- partly self-imposed, partly not, but somehow useful for these last 4 weeks. And yet there is a side dish to the crazy entree, one which your nesting post stirred up and seems worth throwing out to the wind...and you.

Let's get a few things straight: 1) I don't believe in motherly/mothering instincts. Seen too many moms without a shred of it. Some moms, I think, are genuine nurturers for whom the natural extension of nurturing would be that ultimate caretaking role--the raising of a child. 2) Never, ever, as a child did I imagine myself mothering my own children. I wasn't opposed or anything, it just didn't register as a kind of longing or dream. 3) Kids intimidate me: what the hell do you say to them? And why do they always look at me like I'm so stupid when I talk to them? 4) I don't believe that having children is the inevitable path for fertile adults. It's not necessary and I don't buy that it can provide complete fulfilment. And on and on and on...

And yet. My imagination is consumed by two things: the exam and having a baby. It's not what I imagined (at least not yet)-- this desire is very earthy (to tread dangerously close to clicheland)-- it's so physical and when I dream, I dream about the weight of my baby in my arms and about breastfeeding and the feel of her skin (yes, her) it's almost a feeling of desperation mixed with desire mixed with sorrow mixed with ecstasy. I can't say why this is happening now or why it's happening at all.

Any reasonable person (read: anyone but me) could chart and graph the thousands of ways in which this needs to be thought through and there are flow charts, I'm sure, and therapy to be had, and a husband to get to know and trips to be taken and books to write and and and and and and. No, there will be no pregnancy soon. But I would pay to get to do what I do four times a week when I hold a client's baby against my chest and wrap my arms around it and shove my nose into its neck to smell its smallness. And the sound of a mom, laughing and laughing at her baby scooting across the floor for the first time-- it's exactly how the world is so expansive. Everything is right there.

Maybe the macrocosm of our lives seems to contract as we get older and hunker down with our Rizos and matching silverware. But maybe the microcosm expands to finally allow us to be in a place where we can love the deepest we can and be, without the aid of an entourage, our biggest, best selves. As long as there's a guest bed for a pea, that is.

I love you...
your snuggling buddy,

1 comment:

Sarah said...

Holy shit. I am crying after reading this. How naked and raw can you get? After reading this and and reflecting on having gone through it, I can attest to the powerful call of biological imperative. Sounds like she is knocking on the sides of your ovaries, que no? As the boy approached his 1st birthday, I can tell you, it has been everything I have wanted and more. Not because of some female/mother paradigm, but because I honestly feel like it is what I was made for. That being said, I remember being home with in the first weeks and wondering, "what have I done to my life?" And throughout this year, I'd have a thousand answers for that question.

I am so ready to be Tia Sarah to your darling nino. And, I know now, there is never a perfect time. The list of "stuff" to do will always be there, that is life.

Running to look for Kleenex.