Zofia is looking at me calmly and thoughtfully with those deep blue eyes. It is this blessed 'in-between eating' time when she and her stomach are contented and settled. And I am contented and settled. Time for us both to reflect.
Two momentous events: my little Zofia's one-month'day (another home-made expression of mine), and the first anniversary of my arrival in America, took me by surprise recently.
These, from the point of view of 'a girl I once was,' were entirely and wonderfully unexpected. And they made me wonder and ponder (at least to the extent that I am capable of deeper reflective thought - being a post-natal, intensely hormonal, constantly worried, newly operational and yet deficient milk-factory).
Am I the same person who last June descended on Atlanta with my wedding dress in one hand and a finance visa in another? Yes and no.
First and foremost I am now a mom, and this to put it mildly changes a girl somewhat.
Sure, there are the usual cliches of constant worries, sleepless nights and no 'me' time. All I've heard and believed of motherhood always bore a tint of 'heavy burden'. But there is something important noone can ever tell or explain. Spending every waking minute (and lots of them there are) with this new, completely wonderful human being feels good, cool, exciting! Being so elated one cannot possibly object to a sleepless hour or another dirty diaper. Indeed, the said diaper is happiness in itself, for it means that 'all is in good working order down there'.
And this brings me to the next revelation. I always imagined motherhood as being entirely responsible for someone - this someone completely reliant on me. But, again, something noone can tell or explain is how dependent on this tiny thing one becomes, how one's very life and happiness hang on a full nappy in a desired frequency and colour, on a well-eaten meal, on a smile and a contented murmur.
Thus fulfilled and transformed and satisfied I sit here, staring from time to time at Zofia's tiny frame, marveling at the magic of creation. How come, I think to myself, all her little fingers and toes are in the right place, and, goodness, the correct number and shape? How does Mother Nature know to put her tiny nose right there, in the middle of her face, and her eyes in perfectly equal distance from it? I have obsessed about these anatomical-philosophical mysteries lately. Is it any wonder I have no time for anything else?
First and foremost I am now a mom, and this to put it mildly changes a girl somewhat.
Sure, there are the usual cliches of constant worries, sleepless nights and no 'me' time. All I've heard and believed of motherhood always bore a tint of 'heavy burden'. But there is something important noone can ever tell or explain. Spending every waking minute (and lots of them there are) with this new, completely wonderful human being feels good, cool, exciting! Being so elated one cannot possibly object to a sleepless hour or another dirty diaper. Indeed, the said diaper is happiness in itself, for it means that 'all is in good working order down there'.
And this brings me to the next revelation. I always imagined motherhood as being entirely responsible for someone - this someone completely reliant on me. But, again, something noone can tell or explain is how dependent on this tiny thing one becomes, how one's very life and happiness hang on a full nappy in a desired frequency and colour, on a well-eaten meal, on a smile and a contented murmur.
Thus fulfilled and transformed and satisfied I sit here, staring from time to time at Zofia's tiny frame, marveling at the magic of creation. How come, I think to myself, all her little fingers and toes are in the right place, and, goodness, the correct number and shape? How does Mother Nature know to put her tiny nose right there, in the middle of her face, and her eyes in perfectly equal distance from it? I have obsessed about these anatomical-philosophical mysteries lately. Is it any wonder I have no time for anything else?
