As I say in the "about me" section of my blog, my brain is a cauldron of pop culture. Well, to tell you the truth, that is only half right. My brain is a cauldron, period. It always has been. I run around with stories stories stories- my imagination was and still is a spectrum that would make a rainbow jealous.
However, there is one thing that is always nice and sparkling clear. "Clear as an unmuddied lake. Clear as an azure sky of deepest summer". That thing, my one true thing, is my daughter.
It felt like bubbles rumbling around in my tummy. I thought is was just the movement of my organs a usual, nothing of note. Then it happened again. Bubbles. In a very concentrated area this time.
I was sitting on the couch in my parent's house, watching TV, minding my own business, and my daughter decides to say hello by poking me in my intestine. I froze. Waited.
There it was again-my mini me. Beginning to make her debut in this world.
From then on she never stopped moving, save for a brief second or to when she was born. She's always going going going.
Everytime I lie and cuddle with her, face to face, I reminisce about the time of my life when that chubby little face and big blue eyes were nothing more than bubbles.
I was meant to be a mother. Throughout my life I always balked at the thought of having kids-I was always about my writing and about my career. Now, I know my purpose. I am a mother. I used to think that road was droll, insignificant even since there are no rewards other than the development of another human being. I wasn't meant to procreate, unlike some mothers (and I have no problem with that). I was meant to be a Mom.
Mother to the spitting image of myself. Life is good.