The Birth of a Son

It happened thirty-three years ago - and yet
It seems like yesterday.
There he was at last my baby, a son
He and I were alone for a few minutes
No-one else was there.
I didn¹t have to share him yet

I remember
I picked him up and held him close
I felt his strong little body close to mine
Just a short while ago he had been cocooned inside me.
Now he was a separate small person.
What would be his future? I wondered
I gazed at his face still crumpled from the birth-struggle
I tucked my cheek close to his and felt his warmth
I felt the softness of his dark hair now dry and soft
Soft as thistledown
As soft and dark as a baby duckling.
I whispered his name

I looked at his hands like little starfish
Spread out and perfect
Each finger each tiny fingernail perfect a wonder
How perfect!
I put my finger into his hand
And his fingers curled tightly around my finger.
Such a strong grip! What strength!
He held me as I held him.

And his feet?
He thrust his feet out of the shawl such strong legs
How strong!
And his feet?
I held them in one hand.
He pushed his feet against my hand.
Tiny pink heels perfect pink toes
How wonderful!

I thought, For these few moments he is mine, totally mine.
He opened his eyes and gazed up at me
Our first shared look.
His eyes were dark and deep with knowing
We shared a long deep gaze
Already we had shared so much.
How much more would we share?
How much?

But then I became conscious of noise and movement.
The world was beginning to crowd in on us.
I hugged him close to me and knew
I had to start letting him go
Letting him go.
So soon?