Seven Pounds, a Guest Post by Eileen Valazza
May 18th, 2011
Oh little one, you made everything so big.
I was pretty sure the love would be big, and it's true. I could stare at you for hours, with that soft giddy new-parent look on my face. The one that every parent in the world ever has had.
I saw a couple pushing a stroller down our street the other day and it occurred to me, holy crap, they love that baby as much as I love you.
And it seemed impossible, that there could be this amount of love in the world. We should capture it, use it to power everything and solve the global energy crisis.
Maybe I wasn't thinking about the fear ahead of time, or I underestimated it. Because the fear really blindsided me. I remember the moment it hit me, a few weeks after you were born.
Before that, I worried that I might do something wrong, that I might mess up and not do the right things for you. But in that moment I realized that we won't always be here, together, all day every day.
You are going to go and be a part of this world, and other people will put their marks on you. Someone might hurt you. Someone will likely break your fluttery little heart.
I think, how can I exist knowing this? That there is this living, breathing fragile piece of me so open to the entire world? How have other parents done this before me?
It seems impossible to go on living and be this vulnerable.
But you also made me so much bigger than I was before.
I used to be able to get lost in my own dark corners for days. Now I don't the option to indulge in that. It's scary to hit a wall, to be at the very end of yourself, and realize that not going on is not an option.
When leaving is not an option there is only surrender. And so again and again, more space opens up.
I don't know how you brought so much with you, inside only seven pounds.
Eileen Valazza is mama to 5-month-old Zane, and serves up moonshine for your creative business at the Hopscotch Distillery.