The expected transformation of person into parent was usurped by a different transformation: one from human into animal.  Labour the appropriate start to this transformation.  Labour seems to fit into that subcategory of human experience: along with death and sex and hunger and thirst, in which we are, in so many ways, no different than the rest of the planet’s mammals:  But I am surprised that the parallel has continued, grown, after Ives’ birth.  Our relationship is so physical, so intimate.  It doesn’t, in almost anyway, resemble any of my other human relationships.  The extent of his hunger effects my milk supply.  The restlessness of his night affects the cycles of my sleep.  His cry stirs me to act.  It is hard to reflect and analyze the way I feel, or recall the motivations for my decisions.  My decisions don’t feel like decisions.  They are not grounded by reason, but by drive.  They are responses.  Reflexes.  Like when the doctor taps your knee with a hammer and your shin flips out.


11 comments:

  1. Exactly, i feel like a woolf or a leo...

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  2. this is beautiful and so right on. i am fierce like i didn't know i could be. i feel stronger and more exposed and vulnerable at the same time. my heart is in my throat always. excruciating and sweet isn't it?

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  3. so beautifully written, nikaela.

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  4. I hadn't even considered it to be like this before. It sounds incredible.

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  5. you write so beautifully! x

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  6. Beautiful and wise words. It really is something so strange and strong.

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  7. most incredible words & insight.

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  8. To read this is so breathtaking, hope i'll be able to live this one day... and how beautiful is he : )

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