The birth of Mother

It’s a tale as old as time. We can see the echoes of creation in the light in a new expectant mother’s eyes. It’s a time of hope, of planning, of waiting, of growing. Her hand rests on her belly, gently, with a brush of love as she chats or laughs. She may not know we noticed…but we do. We wait and watch, we become friends; we plan, we examine, we check.

When the day comes, her face is different. The blushing happy days of a swayed walk are replaced by an intense, determined look. Her eyes are fierce, she is inside, working with Birth. It’s a new friend, she isn’t sure yet how much of a friend. She’s wary. Her eyes close. We wait.

In the moment we hand Mama her baby, her eyes see nothing else. To her, this is the moment of miracle, when love and life overwhelm her. She’ll never forget this moment, the memories seared into her mind will be there always. Fresh baby skin, mewing baby cries, laughter and tears, fully enveloping and enveloped by this new life.

To us, it’s the moment we watch Birth turn her into Mother, dusting off hands and going away until another visit someday. She doesn’t see Birth leave, doesn’t see Birth’s work, not the way we see. We smile to ourselves. The blush and focus have turned into love. She has no more attention for her own needs, so we quietly care for them for her. It’s the birth of motherhood, the moment she has turned strength and patience into beauty. She has accomplished, overcome, and at the same time forgotten her own goal and has a thousand new ones nestling in her gaze. And with our experience, we work, we tidy, we quietly fall into the shadows and still marvel all over again at the birth of a mother.