People will try to tell you about that first moment.
The one where you fall in love with your baby.
And you’ll nod, you’ll sit there in awe trying to make sense of a feeling that could never be put into words.
Because how do you explain about knowing love but not like this, how it runs through your veins. How with each inhale you’ll consume it forever from this moment forward. That your new home is wherever they are and theirs is simply you.
How do you explain this pain with a purpose, the one that pulls every ounce of strength from your body. One you never knew you had, one that waited for you.
How do you explain wanting the world to know about this perfect little person you’re staring down at, and in the same breath, wanting to protect them from it. That you’ve never felt so fierce and so vulnerable, that your arms have never felt so important.
How do you explain that months of growing this soul would be the beginning of them growing you. How you can be born again, still you and someone new.
How do you explain the gaze, the one that feels as if you’ve known them forever. How they find your eyes like it’s all they’ve been searching for.
How do you explain how time will stand still, but never still enough to catch it. The feeling of an empty tummy and a full heart. How your legs will wobble in this new role but you’ll never stand so tall. And how heartbeats have their own language.
That this love has a sense of melancholy, you’ll feel everything, it’s so big it hurts. It’s peaceful and it’s terrifying.
A journey where your destination travels alongside you.
A detached piece of yourself that makes you feel whole.
A colour before the bloom.
A type of magic handmade just for us.
Maybe that’s why no words could ever do it just.