7.18.16 The way of it

I remember I was 27. Having my first baby. I remember that I'd been uncertain whether I would ever have any child at all, beg borrow or steal, no matter. It was one of those long labors, in a British Nurse-Midwives home , far up in Vermont. I remember I'd been in bed, sick, for a couple of years.
I remember, viscerally, the way of that small body, this new person, their eyes gazing at me, their warmth and weight and inimitable scent , in my arms. Their hunger. How it was to be plunged into parenthood.
On the third day, my first kid did a push-up , and looked around. It was all over, after that.