Cosmic Girl

I always knew I wanted kids. But I always wanted kids later. Definitely not in my twenties. I was too busy setting the world on fire and not even thinking of tomorrow. Not in my early thirties because I had just met the man I was going to spend my life with. Mid thirties? I was getting married and traveling the world and moving countries and changing jobs and figuring life with Michael.

Skanda came along a few months before I turned 39.

25 minutes past midnight on the 1st of August 2018, after 26 long hours of labour, the midwives placed my newborn child on my chest. It took me a minute to actually look down at her because my whole world had spun around and I was reeling. I needed that minute.

I was never maternal. Kids didn’t catch my fancy. I didn’t coochie coo. I once told a three and a half year old girl that mermaids didn’t exist. She was wearing a t-shirt with a mermaid on it. Etc.

Skanda was a revelation. Still is. Everything they say about motherhood is true. Love like you’ve never felt before. Check. Makes you want to become a better person. Check. Life was empty before. Check. Level of joy unprecedented. Check. Want a better future. Check. Will eat less red meat. Check.

But what really blew me away was how much fun it was going to be. All of it. The routine, the nappy changes, mealtimes, never sleeping, constant stimulation – all of it – 9 times out of 10 is/has been fun.

So maybe I spent all my years denying myself this space that is motherhood? It seemed like such a chore. So much work. How could it possibly be enjoyable? And yet here I am – having the very best time of my life because I have this cosmic girl in my world and we hang out and do stuff and I watch her learn things and explore …. this universe. Her eyes when she focussed on a tree for the first time, her first laugh, the first time she recognised me, the first time she was thrilled at being flung up from my arms, the first time she experienced the ocean, the whale songs she sings in the shower, how she holds on to me at night, the first time she sat up, stood up, stood unassisted, ate her first food.. it’s endless. It will always be like this for me. I will always find joy in her and what she does.

I’m not saying she won’t be a slamming doors/talking back/eyerolling/muttering under her breath teenager – I’m saying despite all that I know I will see the magic in her eyes and all that she sees. It’s a trap. I am in it. And I’m ecstatic.

Maybe more so because I didn’t expect this ride to be so fun. What a privilege to have a part of the universe as yours for a little while. That’s what she is to me.

My cosmic girl.

From another galaxy.

My heart’s in zero gravity.