1996-2002

Callan has dimpled hands
chubby arms and legs
fluffy brown hair
Daddy’s eyes and Daddy’s strong neck.

Five days ago…

Opening myself for him to be born was one of the hardest things I have done and yet…it was easy…no it wasn’t! It was like acid and like a knife as Callan slowly split me. So strange: I could have not done it. I could have held back, held him in. The doctor had to ask me. ‘Push’, he said. But it wasn’t like pushing. It was like opening myself. I was surprised. It hurt, but I did it anyway.

Then…

The doctor said, ‘Open your eyes and have a look’.

A glimpse of baby, then they took it away across the room. I said, ‘I have to yell a bit’, and hollered for a few seconds to let out all the yells I had not yelled during the pain.

Then the baby was in my arms, wrapped in a warm towel, crying. I said ‘Hello’.

I said, ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy’.

‘Hello, Callan’, I said, and kissed his forehead. So soft.

(First published in An Endless Afternoon)

I am your muscle
and you are my eye;
I am your earth
and you are my sky.
You are my path
and you are my power;
amid all the huffle
you are my hour.
I am your centre,
stalk for your flower;
I am your block,
base of your tower.
You are my luck
and I am your die;
you are my weather
and I am your cry.

I am a whale and she is my calf
Swimming beside me as I navigate the seas.
And look at the size of my calf!
Mouth at my breast,
feet on my thighs,
knees in my belly.
Be still, calf!