Last night I walked a whole block-and-a-half and back to get milk, BY MYSELF. It was the longest time I’d been away from Madeleine in her little life. It felt so… partitioned. Like something essential was missing. And finally I could admit to myself that I was no longer pregnant, that I was just and only me. It was a funny feeling of independence and physical freedom and loss and lightness. Another sensation: I was rugged up in a coat and gloves, so all of me was cozy, toasty, except my face which took the full, icy slap of the winter night on the cheeks. It was kind of glorious. Alive! I could smell rain a-comin’ but when I looked up, up, up, stars made mockery of the city lights, just over there.
When I got home into the light and warmth and shed my layers, Mr B handed Madeleine to me without a word, as if he knew. He knew. Madeleine snuggled onto my chest, nuzzling her head under my chin in just the place she loves the most and I love the most. She was divinely warm. Her jaw slowly dropped open and she started to snore, soft little snuffles. I hugged her close and thought, Wow.