Joy And Sorrow

by Mrs. Chicken on August 8, 2008

Please welcome my dear, dear friend, Amanda, of Tumble Dry.

***

“Might you consider guest posting for me in August when I have the baby?”

This was the whispered request that came via email one Monday afternoon in July. Its arrival had me thinking about friendship and motherhood, marriage and solitude. I’ve known Mrs. Chicken for a year or two, I guess. I remember seeing her from afar, her posts always favorited by so many during the Blog Exchange, and thinking as I read her posts, “I wish I’d written that.”

It’s a Sunday morning as I sit down to honor her Monday afternoon request. I imagine that she is still resting, body and mind weary from wondering and sustaining, first the life within her and second her firstborn- The Pooh. My own girls are sleeping. Moments ago they were here, feet swinging at the table, ringlets bouncing and eyes, the blue of their Daddy’s, dancing. Toddler giggles and infant coos swirled around us, graduates of the petals thrown at weddings, chapters of our story.

The familiar whir of Finley’s swing calms me, gentle clicks from the dryer sweetly reward me as they announce a Sunday accomplishment.The fan overhead is casting shadows on the map of our morning, long purple straws listing drunkenly from decadently chocolate milk, cups of yogurt sit mostly eaten with spoons, sticky from end to tip, waiting to be reclaimed. My own breakfast, toasted wheat bread with peanut butter, has been sectioned and redistributed, little finger sandwiches with mini-nibbles taken here and there.

The empty stools soothe me, they tell a tale of presence more than absence, it has taken time to understand the difference. It was nearly four years ago that we had our first daughter. She winnowed her way into our deepest sorrows, threading together wounds that had never healed, and in return we loved her in ways we never knew possible. Days before her first birthday her sister came to be, two lines and a squeal. Despite my joy, fissures of worry blossomed, the precariousness of certainty.

I have ached for Mrs. C in the loneliness, fear and tentative joy she has shared these past months. I know release will come, but I cannot say when or how. For me it was the moment I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw two dimpled hands, garden soil under ragged nails, reach for each other. Their arms were so short that they had to lean from their seats, legs kicked out in an attempt to stretch further, and as their hands touch I could swear the light changed.

Now we are five, a third daughter joined us in April. Already they are holding hands, redefining the two that we were. Rarely easy, but undeniably right. The tears I cry as I sit on a Sunday morning considering purple straws and sticky spoons aren’t simple, they are sorrow and joy, woman and girl, daughter and wife. There are three stools and they hold my place in the world, my three girls.

Across the miles I imagine three people becoming four, dimpled hands and dark tendrils, fresh tears and, finally, certainty of belonging.

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Baby Duty
August 8, 2008 at 9:44 am

{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }

pgoodness August 8, 2008 at 6:54 am

Amanda, you are just such a wonderful writer. And yes, the holding of hands cements it all, doesn’t it?

Lawyer Mama August 8, 2008 at 7:22 am

This is such a beautiful post.

amanda August 8, 2008 at 7:27 am

This was such an honor, Mrs. Chicken. Fierce hugs across the miles.

Janet August 8, 2008 at 7:35 am

That was beautiful, A.

MomTo4KidsNy August 8, 2008 at 7:54 am

Amazing post and it brought tears to my eyes!

Motherhood Uncensored August 8, 2008 at 8:01 am

Thank you for painting such a gorgeous picture of 5. Something I needed to read…

And of 4 — in honor of the Chicken family.

Kimberly August 8, 2008 at 8:43 am

As often happens when I read your posts, I find myself wiping tears from my eyes. Just gorgeous. You’re a wonderful writer and even better friend.

diane August 8, 2008 at 8:50 am

What a beautiful, beautiful post.

Lisa Milton August 8, 2008 at 9:12 am

All these babies; beautiful.

Thank you.

Mrs. Chicken August 8, 2008 at 9:24 am

There was a reason I hoped you would guest post for me, and this essay illustrates it perfectly.

Amanda, you are a beautiful mother, friend and human being. I am honored to know you.
xoxoxo

amanda August 8, 2008 at 9:52 am

i seriously don’t know how you do it amanda.

mrs. c is a lucky lady to have you in her corner.

actually we are all blessed to have you and your words in our world.

holly August 8, 2008 at 10:27 am

Goodness, Amanda, that was lovely. What a beautiful post!

Sus August 8, 2008 at 10:39 am

Okay so I’m going right over to add you to my blogroll! Your post wrapped around me this morning as wonderfully as the cool August morning. Thanks.

Jodi August 8, 2008 at 12:12 pm

What a post! How amazingly you have put it into words. Thank you for sharing.

Jess August 8, 2008 at 12:43 pm

That was very beautiful, I’m looking forward to the upcoming compilation of “Amy’s friends”…she has the cream of the crop, in my book.

You make wonderful connections, especially about the healing threads of becoming a parent.

jess August 8, 2008 at 12:57 pm

What a beautiful piece of writing. Glad to have you at the House of Chicken! (or would that be coop?)

Rachael August 8, 2008 at 3:07 pm

What a beautiful post, and a great guest post!

Damselfly August 8, 2008 at 4:35 pm

Two dimpled hands, ahhh. What a sweet image.

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