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Posts tagged ‘grand daughter’

Haiku and Loku Days-The Fluttering of Wings

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2013

I would think every and any mother would want to be with her daughter and her first baby during birth and those special first moments after. In this space, this place in time, is an affirmation of an eternal bond of mothers and daughters and the eternal magic of bringing forth life. This treasure was denied me by circumstances that were not absolutely inevitable, but came about by the doings of another person. I had envisioned the moment, cherished its materialization and was crushed when it was usurped from me.

Tuesday morning I opened my email. I was taking a few moments to relax before getting ready for work. I had been having significant levels of pain again, partly from the strong front that was coming through. I didn’t have to be there until mid-day; I wanted to take time, have some hot coffee and read my mail. I started down the list of new emails and there was an email from my son-in-law announcing the birth of their second child a few days before her due date. It had come in shortly after I had gone to bed the night before and so I didn’t see it until morning. Along with the cold front, there had been a full moon – an effective formula for triggering labor. As I was reading the email, I received a text from my daughter asking if I could come to the hospital to be with her and the baby. There was no one there, it would just be us.

I called work to see if it was okay for me to come in a little later. I dressed, grabbed my purse and a little hat I had knitted for the baby and stepped out to brave the icy wind and rain. It was the tail end of rush hour. It is amazing how many cars are on the road and what bad drivers are in them when one is making a 40 minute drive to see a new grandchild. The rain and wind did not let up. It blew me a foot to the side as I took a step on my walk up to the hospital entrance.

The walk to the elevator was long, too many codes and locked doors and passages. Finally there it was-the room-warm, quiet, calm, behind the curtain my daughter with a tiny bundle of blankets at her breast.

“Would you like to hold her?”

She handed me a treasure as light as air and just as precious. Under the blanket, little arms with tiny covered hands held close, this world still too strange and invasive, dark knowing eyes in a softly expressive face. Quiet. Still. A heart beat meditative with the protective spirit of the now forsaken womb. I held her, rocking softly to my heart’s beat.

Parisa. I peruse the details of your physical being. The pink of your skin. The bow of your lips. The smallness of your ears. The grace of your hands and the length of your fingers. The untold secret you hold in your eyes, your deep knowing eyes.

Who are you, Parisa? Angelic spirit, spiritual beauty- inner and outer. I hold you, close to me. I hold you, the key, to my past and to all future. I hold you, the world in my hands, redemption in my hands. Every baby born – a chance for redemption-for the individual, the family, the world. Every baby born – a portal, a reminder, a glimpse of from where we came and to where we return.

I hold you in my arms. I hold you in my heart.




Winged flutter from womb,
Lighten my heart, ancient soul,
Eyes speak deep intent.                                                                                                            

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