precocious

January 15, 2008 at 5:40 pm (daughters, love, mothering, physicality)

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my daughter is intensity in motion. good natured and affectionate, she can also be slightly brutal when she wants her way. she pulls hair to show displeasure and in defense. she’s strong and capable and PRECOCIOUS.

i didn’t know if she was a boy or girl but late in the summer before she was born, one lone rose bloomed on the bush that flowers in spring. the little pink rose lasted for a week and my mother said it was a sign, our little girl announcing herself to the world.

birthing her was difficult. i was resistant to the pains of labor. i assumed that because i had given birth once before that it would be easy and quick. it seemed an eternity with slow progress. when the time came to push her out i experienced a primal fear. i felt certain that i couldn’t do it. she was big and got stuck and everyone panicked. i could see it all happening from somewhere slightly distant. there was a moment of wondering if i was going to be the woman whose baby died. just as i began to make peace with that possibility, she came sliding into the world.

i grieved her birth for it felt too rough. she cried for a week, her arm sore from tugging. she wouldn’t nurse and i was frightened. we found a groove eventually and her black hair grew into a mohawk. it stood straight up. she attracted attention from those closest to me and strangers as well. she has charisma.

i can see in her the complexity of woman. she is a dichotomy and a puzzle. she wakes in the night with a shriek, leaving me curious about what is haunting her. she is physical and unafraid, a climber and a talker. i know she has a message for the world, though it is yet to be articulated.

my mother’s mother calls her precocious. coming from a woman who gave birth to seven children, i think the label is appropriate. i wait patiently and expectantly as she unfolds.

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