Sunday, May 24, 2009

A Birthday Filled With Her Light


It's Miss Maybelle's birthday today and I wrote about her birth-day last year and if you'd like to go back and read about a hippie home birth which occurred in Lloyd, Florida in 1978, you can find that story right here.

That was a good day, that one. The day my second child was born. All the days my children were born were the best days of my life. Those were the days the curtain parted and the "other" universe was revealed in a flash and a life safely slipped through from there to here and ended up in my arms, at my breast, and being a conduit for that sort of cosmic occurrence is something you neither forget nor take for granted.

And it's a heavy, heavy responsibility when we are given the honor of becoming the mother of a child. There are so many reasons to have a baby but none of them are good enough to actually explain why we do it. THAT'S how heavy the responsibility is. That's how heavy the potential for tragedy is because if we somehow lose that life, then there is no going back and every mother (and father, for that matter) who has lost a child has a certain look about them, a darkness of heart that never goes away. Ever.

When Miss Maybelle was fifteen years old she was hit by a car and when I got that call (Mrs. Moon, your daughter's been in an accident) one of the most immediate reactions I had was to wish I'd never had children because I could not bear it if she died. I could not bear it.

Thank every power that be she did not die and she is whole and she is healthy and she is so strong. So very strong. Although her bones hurt her every minute of the day and night, she is strong and whole. Probably stronger than she would have been had she never been hit by that car but I would gladly trade a little weakness for her never having to have gone through that.

Other things have threatened Miss Maybelle's life and if you've read her blog, you'll be able to figure out some of them. And I don't know why I'm thinking of those things today instead of merely (merely!) the glory of her birth, the first moment I held her, the way I studied her face in wonder, every bit as amazed at the miracle of her as I was at the miracle of my first born.
I'm thinking about that, of course, but I'm also thinking about what a hard road she's had to travel. She doesn't do anything the easy way. She wouldn't have been hit by the car if she'd taken the easy way to school- riding the bus instead of walking the miles to get there. Something I knew she shouldn't be doing but letting her do it because we were at that very hard place of mother and daughter and I was trying so hard to pick my battles wisely and in this case, I had chosen wrongly. I hadn't protected her and thus, her life was nearly ended and I would never have been able to live with the knowledge of that.

But you know- we can't hold our babies in our arms forever. We have to let them take those first tentative steps into the world and we have to let them run when they are able.
And no matter what we do or how hard we try to protect them and shield them and warn them and give them the information and skills they need to make it in the world as a fully-realized human adult, we can't prevent them from running down paths which are not safe, which are fraught with peril, which are lit incandescently with the promise of something worth the risk and they go and they have to explore and sometimes they go down the rabbit hole and if we're lucky, they remember to reach out a hand before the slip down entirely.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I want to talk about how incredibly proud I am of this child for pulling herself out of places that so many people never come out of. I want to talk about what strength and purpose she has. I want to talk about how I can't tell her that enough and how every day she becomes more beautiful. How smart she is, how full of wisdom and humor and talent. How if there were a fire in this house, I would grab the book she made me when she was still a child because it's the most valuable thing I own and then I would frantically reach for the dolls she's made me, the pictures she's painted me, the gourd she carved me, the Madonnas and mermaids she's made me. Those are the things I could hardly bear to lose.

But the thing I really couldn't bear to lose is her.
Her voice on the phone. "Hey Mama!" she always says. The long talks we have, the conversations about books and hopes and dreams, the way we tell each other jokes and the dirtier the better. The way our brains are so similar, the way her body feels when I hold her, as precious to me now as it was when I first held her.

We were talking yesterday and we were discussing a fella. "When he looks at me," she said, "I think he sees this beautiful and really smart girl and I'm just a regular girl."

Oh honey, I think.
Oh honey.

This past year has been one of huge growth for Miss Maybelle and she's working her way down some paths which are hard. Hard, I tell you! And she's doing that joyfully and with her eyes open and instead of the promise of heady risk, those paths promise only more hard work and quiet sobriety. One step at a time, she's walking down them. Not running towards a gaudy false light, but walking towards a sincere and true place, her way lit by stars and candles and mostly by the light of her soul, the inextinguishable light of her soul.

How I wish I were the magical Maria Luna of her picture so that I could have prevented her from the pain she's gone through. The physical, the emotional, the spiritual.
But I am not.
I am merely her mama.
Greatest honor of my life.

And of these days she's going to let some fella look at her with those eyes that say, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and the smartest, too," and she's going to relax into that and think, "Hey. This is the way I'm supposed to be seen," and when she falls in love with herself, she'll fall in love with the fella who reflects that in his eyes.
When she knows herself and sees the light of her soul, then she'll let love in.

Mr. Moon says that we fall in love when we see the reflection of ourselves we want to be in the eyes of someone else. He is very wise, that Mr. Moon.
I've been looking into those eyes of his for all these years and even though I don't think I'm actually the person I see reflected there, I surely want to be and he gives me the strength to try to be and when he sees himself reflected in my eyes, I think he sees the person he is trying to be.
We are all striving, we are all trying.

Miss Maybelle more than anyone else I know.

I remember looking into her newborn eyes and seeing the entire universe. The deep place from which all life springs.

That's still what I see when I look into her eyes.

I see the reflection of my better self, I see the depths of her.

And what I wish for her in this next year of her life is that she continues on the paths she is taking. That she learns to run on them, that she is able to run up the highest hill and know the strength of her body, her spirit, her heart. Know the unlimitless power of her determination and breath. To know that there is nothing which can stop her because she is, well, she is my May.

That we are here behind her, beside her, around her. Her daddies, her mothers, her brother, her sister, and whoever else she chooses to hold her hand out to.

And we are blessed by her light. And that we are so grateful she is learning to appreciate that.

My May. My solid piece of starlight, made visible and born into my arms thirty-one years ago today.

Happy birthday, my darling.
I love you. Thank-you for being here.
Thank-you for being strong.
Thank-you for the heart you share with us and the light you shed on us.

Look into our eyes and let us reflect some of that back on to yourself. Your glorious, shining self.
Happy birthday. You are busy being born.
I stand in wonder. I have counted your toes, I have looked into your eyes.

I have found you perfect. I have declared you whole, you strong, beautiful woman. My friend forever, my child, my baby. My May.

15 comments:

  1. Oh Ms. Moon, I just love ya, even when you make me cry.

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  2. Happy Birthday! Your tribute to your daughter shows just how proud you are to be her mother. That's just as it should be.

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  3. and once again you have moved me to tears...you are blessed to have her and she is blessed to have you

    smooches

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  4. TEARS.

    Goose-bumps and tears.

    So beautiful Ms. Moon. SO MUCH love.

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  5. That was just beautiful. May is a lucky person to have you for a mom.

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  6. And, the part about reflection in eyes was so amazing. Mr. Moon is wise too! You are obviously blessed to have May as a daughter as well. :)

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  7. Ginger- I cry every time I think about that girl. Sweet tears. Very sweet tears.

    Aunt Becky- You got it! I am SO proud to be her mama.

    Ms. Bliss- If she were only half as lucky as I am....

    AJ- You would love our May. I know that for a fact.

    Nicol- Let me say once more- I am the luckiest woman on earth.

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  8. Marvelous May! She is a treasure.

    As I was reading your beautiful words, I was thinking... Whoa, if either of my parents would have said anything close to that, to me... What would that even feel like?

    Very very cool that you express your love and all that comes with it TO your children directly. It's everything.

    Thanks for having us. The magic seemed even more shiny today than usual somehow. It was a great afternoon.
    xo pf PS Harley fell asleep faster than he ever has. I think he was in mid sentence! A record!

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  9. Steph- SHE is beautiful.

    Petit Fleur- It was one of those really magical gatherings, wasn't it?
    I saved Harley some cobbler. A bite. He was so cute. I'm so glad we're neighbors.

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  10. Hi Mrs Moon, I often see your comments on Infantasia's blog, and I've always loved your wisdom. But this morning I cried reading your post about your daughter. I have 4 beautiful boys, all born at home in water. Births that blew my mind with how profound yet how everyday they were. My second boy, Reuben was conceived in another millenium on the other side of the world, was born on 27th, the same date as his brother, he was our midwife's 27th delivery. He was born on his due date, in a leap year, and was also born in the Caul. He is a magical boy, so generous and kind, but is so challenging, and our lives are full of constant conflict with him, all of us seemingly against him. Having read your post, I want to wrap him up, and see him and fully connect and understand him. To somehow ease his pain and help him on his journey. I have no answers, but I want so want to know his questions. Thank you Mrs Moon...

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  11. What a beautiful tribute to your daughter. As the mother of a 23 year old, I read this and shed a bittersweet tear for all of the beautiful daughters and mother's with a bond this deep and unpenetrable.
    Happy Birthday to your sweet daughter!!!

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  12. Annah- One of my children was a "hard" one. She was born fighting everything. And now, twenty-three years later, she is the kindest, sweetest girl in the world and is about to make me a grandma.
    Love your son with all you have (I know you do) and it will all be okay.

    Tiffany- It's all a miracle, isn't it?

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  13. That was absolutely beautiful about my absolutely beautiful sister, whom I have looked up to with light in my eyes, and in wonder at such an amazing person.

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