Midnight Hours

Abraham

You’re asleep on my chest. Like you used to do when you were really little. I’m realising more and more how to lean in to these moments. How precious they are. I know that sounds cliche. But I have no other word to use. Mothering’s language is severely lacking.

I think back to the night you were born. All rush and lights. All pain and fear. Then relief. A shaking and joyous meeting.

Then my utter overwhelmed-ness. As you tried to latch for the first time. How I nervously asked the midwife to help. My hands still shaking in shock from your birth. IVs being placed and the doctor coming in to make sure I wasn’t going to pass out in a seizure. The buzz.

Then the quiet. That first night. Alone with you. My son. The adrenaline keeping me awake even as you slept soundly. Asking the midwife to help me lay you down in your cot so I could go to the toilet. I’d seemingly forgot all my knowledge of babies. Could I just set you down? My first experience of mother guilt and unsurity. Those two ever pervading emotions that have hounded me these last seven and a half months.

My son. Still a word I can’t quite bring myself to realise is true. You’ve grown so much more into the wee little man you will be. I’m now facing a whole new set of emotions. What’s it going to be like to have you walking? To be able to have a conversation with you?

I feel so underprepared for this journey we’re on. As do most mothers I think. I feel the lack of myself every day.

But then I look at you. All curled in my arms. Snuffling and snuggling. And I’m reminded that you are a gift. That of all the babies. And all the parents. You were given to us.

And I’m reminded of another presence. A constant Presence. One that will never leave or forsake. No matter where we are on this journey, He is with us. And when I feel weak with exhaustion, and emotions threaten to overcome me….He is strong. And He gives good gifts…..they may be overwhelming, they may reveal the lack of ourselves, but they are GOOD. Just like He is. And on all journeys into His gifts, of sorrow or joy, He walks with us. When I am weak, He is strong.

So I lean in. Into His grace and into His joy. This is my strength and song.

And you, you my precious sweet boy are my laughter and tears. My gift. A gift of a journey that is ever unfolding. So I’m leaning in.

‘”Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been borne by me from before your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save.’
Isaiah 46:3-4

Below is a wee something I wrote in the first two weeks after Bram was born, overwhelmed by the transition into motherhood and the lonely hours of night….

Midnight Hours

These small
short eternal hours
with you

In the dark
dreamy landscape
of night

My selfhood
seeps out and entangles
around this

Your hand
held upon my breast
in a fist

No longer
little only simple me
inside

We expand
entirely encompassing, enshrouding
embracing each other

This calm
comforting moment of peace
to simply be