Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Yes, And I Feel Fine

BPD and I were on a plane when it happened. For other pregnant women, I don't know if it happened all at once (like for me), or gradually over the 9 months.

But for me, it was at 7 months. It was when I loved her for the first time.

BPD and I were off to our "babymoon," a few days relaxing at a spa in Laguna Beach, still a few months before I ate so much that I felt a wheelbarrow was in order.

After we reached 10,000 feet (why is that the magic number?), I popped in the buds and turned on the pod.

And on came James Taylor. It was "Something In The Way She Moves," a song which I had always liked and always found romantic.

*****
Something in the way she moves, or looks my way, or calls my name that seems to leave this troubled world behind. And if I'm feeling down and blue or troubled by some foolish game, she always seems to make me change my mind.

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now, she's around me now almost about all the time. And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now. She's been with me now quite a long, long time and I feel fine.

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning and I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go.

She has the power to go where no one else can find me and to silently remind me of the happiness and the good times that I know, and then I just got to go then.

It isn't what she's got to say but how she thinks and where she's been. To me, the words are nice, the way they sound.

I like to hear them best that way, it doesn't much matter what they mean. She says them mostly just to calm me down.

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now, she's around me now almost about all the time.

And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now. She's been with me now quite a long, long time and I feel fine.

***
As I listened to the words that I knew by heart, it struck me that the words didn't necessarily have to refer to a lover...they could refer to a daughter.

And that's when I knew

she

would

change

everything.

And I burst into tears.

BPD was wondering whether my crazy pregnancy hormones made me hate airplane peanuts. The dude in the window seat was undoubtedly wondering whether I was going into labor.

and I was wondering how I didn't feel this before.

You see, I hadn't yet felt that really strong connection to my baby. Sure, I loved her in the abstract, but this was the moment of the heart faltering, breath wheezing, tear streaming, OH MY GOD SHE'S A PART OF ME.

I heard the song again last night, driving home way too late from work. Same tears, less awkward locale.

5 comments:

Backpacking Dad said...

So that's why James Taylor was on the iPod when I turned it on this morning.

I love you. And that baby.

Danielle said...

That's so sweet! and choked me up.

Note to self: I have to convince my husband for more babies....

:)

AEA said...

Just be glad she's not a *part* of you:

http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/europe/05/15/girl.twin.ap/index.html

Swirl Girl said...

beatiful song ...I love reading BPD and just checked you out for the first time.

You sound like a loving couple who will raise a great little Erin (or maybe more?).

very sweet.

www.swirlgirlspearls.blogspot.com

moonspun said...

That's a great story, and I've thought in the past their were many meanings for that song. I am not a birth mother, but I can relate to that song in regards to my daughter. She is all things wonderful to me. I love to watch her sleep. There's such beauty and wisdome there.