Granny on the road again: De Julie à Sophie

Dear One,

Three early mornings ago, before sun’s dawn, from darkness and hard labour, a new life emerged and was placed upon your breast.

In concert with this new and unspoiled life, your body opened and bore down upon your baby’s body of beginnings.

He came into this cold world flush with bright lights and loud sounds, into what may have seemed an unfriendly, brash place.

A smile, a tear, your body’s release. Your first-born child lay there.

***

My dear one — all of life now lies open before you: your life and his.

You will share this life now — for the rest of your time on earth. Never shall you be alone again — in mind or body or spirit.

***

You will have a million questions, and here I do not hyperbolise. A million questions, yes, from between now to the end of time:

What does he need?
Am I doing this right?
Should I give him this?
What is the right [insert: temperature, time, weight, etc.]?
How do I do this?
What should I do?

You will be tempted to ask “professionals” or those who have come before you for their advice. You will Google answers and read books. You will ask your friends and other young mothers. All of this you should do, to the extent that external knowledge is helpful to you.

I would also encourage you to be still. Your body — and your baby — will be great, if not the very best, sources of wisdom. This is a dance you will dance with this human — and with your husband, your new family.

This is a life you will construct now not as two, but as three. Allow yourself to deeply listen to the wisdom found in your three.

***

Deep in the wisdom of your three, you will find a truth from which all humans are born, and live their lives, returning at the end to dust. That truth is love.

Love is the answer to nearly every question. You know this — for it is you who taught me this.

***

You will want to do the “right thing”. You will want to be a “good mother”. You will want to spare your child the mistakes visited upon you in your own childhood and any new ones that might crop up in this new, modern world of parenting and living.

It is noble to want these things.

Let me say just one thing. A good mother is imperfect.

You will make mistakes. You will not always do the “right” thing. You will fail at some things and not be able to do all things.

If I may, I invite you to think about and choose the things you will not do well or at all — and find people or systems to do those things.

We are not superhuman, though of course, you will judge yourself as if you were.

I am giving you permission now, and as long as I am alive, I will continue to do so. You can let go of that which you cannot do, and you can allow others to help you with the things you cannot yet let go.

***

Your son will need a few things, but not all things, in life.

Your son will need to watch you and your husband cry, so he, too, can feel safe crying, now and when he is a teen, an adult, an old man.

Your son will need to hear you both laugh out loud, so that he can also freely express his joy — for the rest of his life.

Your son will need to taste the dirt and sweat on your skin and on his, so that he knows what it is to love and to fight for the things and the people he loves.

Your son will need to smell jasmine and tangerines, fresh-cut grass and the sea, so that he can better taste all that life has for him, and you.

Your son will need your gentle touch, your warm embrace, your strong arms, your loving kiss, and yes, to be held long into the day and night, so that he can come to trust this world and grow into a fully confident and loving human.

***

The days will be long, my dear one. Oh, so long.

And the years will be short, my dear one. Oh, so short.

***

Love, always.

Quand Julie attendait Sophie nous les avons hébergées quelques mois . Et voilà que maintenant, le 23 , Sophie, à son tour, a mis au monde Gabriel Et voila que j'ai l'impression d'être arrière grand-mere .