Friday, 18 June 2010

Feeling for Two


When I was pregnant I ate for two, but now that I'm a mother I'm feeling for two instead.

The little unformed person that I carry about with me makes me see the world through brand new eyes, and suddenly everything is awash with brilliance.

Colours are brighter, sounds are sharper, smiles are sweeter and love is deeper.

"Look John," I say, "Can you see the river? Can you see the sun drops that are dancing across its surface like a jar of dropped pennies? Can you smell the cool mud of the riverbed? Can you see the trees waving their fingers at the sun and trailing their toes lazily in the shallows? Can you feel the breeze that's rolling down the mountain? Can you imagine pulling up your trousers and fishing for tiddlers at the shore?"

John sucks his fingers, drools down his T-shirt and burps, and so I see, smell, feel and imagine for him instead.

If I'd never seen a river in my life before I could not find it more beautiful than this and the exuberance I feel is excruciating.

I'd expected my capacity for love to grow with my babe but I'd not expected my capacity for seeing, feeling, smelling and sensing to grow along with him too.

Some days my heart feels as stretched and sore as my belly did when I carried him.

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