The Ripple Of New Life
When I returned home from hospital the house felt entirely different,
though it was just as we left it.
I timidly stepped into myself at the same time.
I spent those first few days staring at him in disbelief, in pain, in awe, that the walls around me would be filled with him, that the empty bassinet was now making sounds.
Oh how I had waited for this day, but never anticipated how one could feel put together and in pieces all at once.
How one tiny person could cause all this chaos in my heart and home.
And my husband and I were like two entirely new beings, the sun on our face one minute and at the bottom of the ocean the next.
But there, my anchor.
Reminding me of who I am, not just who I was.
Why was this love so terrifying?
Why could I be so tired with skin so awake?
Can you become whole when you were never empty?
While everything seemed so clear my mind was a scratchy signal out in the middle of nowhere.
And yet, I so deeply belonged.
Right here, cradling my heart.
One endless Sunday afternoon I opened the window to hear the familiar grainy chorus of lawnmowers.
How could the world be so unchanged?
Or maybe the ripple of new life keeps going and going.
Colouring us in,
like a beautiful slow shift.