On Becoming

Selah started fussing early in the five o'clock hour, just before the sky began to lighten in the east. Partially awake and blinking away the remaining strands of my interrupted dream, I fumbled with her swaddling blanket, freeing her warm arms and lifting her to my chest. She wasn't quite awake, either, but being close to me reminded her why she was stirring at this hour, and her mouth instinctively sought the milk she craved as I settled myself in the rocker with a nursing pillow and a soft flannel burp cloth. She managed to nurse right through letdown without being overtaken, and as the flow subsided and she drank in long draws, her soft fist clutched my robe and she looked up at me. Her eyes are so blue.


Derek and I were still discussing whether or not to try for a third child when we discovered we were expecting her. We weren't quite overwhelmed with the two, but the workload and juggling was more than we were expecting going from one to two, and the prospect of throwing a grenade into what already felt like a hectic daily life wasn't something we were ready to commit to until the commitment was made for us. I have expressed before the trepidation with which I approached this transition. Strangely, it was the minivan that made it all clear to me. Buckling my three little chicks into their carseats and driving with them downtown to spend Eden's birthday money at the bookstore was my first outing with the three of them by myself, the day Derek went back to work. Something clicked that morning, like one of those toy cars on an electrified racetrack, making perfect contact with the grooved rails beneath to remain in the track no matter what direction the path takes. My path was clear, my purpose clearly defined, my job inescapably important. There was no building of confidence; it was there because it had to be there. This is my job. These are my children.


I glanced toward the window, guessing at the lightening of the horizon beyond the glare from the dimly lit nursery. With my free left hand, I found myself idly smoothing the hair above Selah's ear, tucking it behind then shaping it forward, stroking her cheek with the back of my index finger and looking down at my youngest child. Warm and full of milk, she loosed her latch and looked into me, eyes sparkling and pink little mouth turning into a smile for her momma, her world. I cupped her head in my hands and kissed her face, nuzzling my young like a momma deer, and brought her up to my shoulder, cheek to cheek. With rhythmic pats to loosen the bubble, I bade myself remember, remember, remember.