Babies are born in the circle of the sun / Circle of the sun on the birthing day...
Both my babies have been born in storm, storms that raged unheard through thick hospital walls and left the world transformed. The day I came home from the hospital with the Pie, the world was fresh and green, months of humidity washed away in a refreshing summer storm. A far, far different day that was from the cold November morning that brought me home with a newborn baby Bub. The leaves had fallen from the trees, all at once, and our garbage pails were nowhere to be found, carried down the street and into oblivion by the gale-force winds that had raged outside while I laboured.
My memories are hazy of those first few weeks - I can recall struggling guiltily to pour formula down the baby's throat before my milk came in, struggling to overcome the overpowering sense of terror and inadequacy that flooded me every time he cried. And then, a few weeks later, there was this:
And, three years later, this:
Happy birthday, sweet little boy.