Blue ranks amongst my favourite colours; navy blue, cornflower blue, baby blue, azure, cyan blue, steel blue, agate blue, cobalt blue, royal blue, aquamarine, periwinkle, powder blue, indigo, sapphire blue..... It calms, soothes and clears my cluttered mind. It's the still waters of a silent lake. The volatile waters of a turbulent sea. The endless vista of an unblemished sky. I love blueberry pancakes and Spring time bluebells that dress woodland floors. Blue is the colour of protection, freedom, loyalty and faith. Blue spreads her dominant wings across our entire globe. I have blue grey eyes which morph into electric blue beacons when I'm tired. I think exhaustion causes the shade to change. The deepest blue also happens to be the colour of Little A's eyes. The brightest most enquiring eyes I have ever met. And I cannot forget the first time my eyes really, truely met hers. It wasn't just a meeting it was more of a communing. So I am writing this to immortalise that moment. A moment which etched an indelible mark across my heart.
It wasn't the moment she was literally plonked on my chest for the first time. That was the strangest moment ever. Detached. Wounded. Unsure. Was this baby really mine? I couldn't connect or understand that this now rooting angel had come from me or that my womb, yes my incredible organic greenhouse, had spent 9 months ripening this little cherry tomato. She came out blue and frighteningly still. Resuscitated and apgar approved she was handed like a baton from doctor, to midwife, to Younger Dad and finally to me. I came last in the relay. Stunned. Disconnected. This was a heart breaking moment. I couldn't bond. I could only stare. I already missed the wriggly sensations of her presence within me. And now she suddenly existed in the physical world, a separate entity, courtesy of a surgical knife and the doctors' skilled hands. My body shook violently from the impact of the cesarean and the epidural now loosening its cloying grip. Numb, I was unable to hold her properly. Horizontal, I could only gaze at the white ceiling of the operating theatre.
The moment didn't come during our first night together. We were totally totalled after our 20 hour marathon day. You slept in your little 'fish tank'. I lay next to you on the elevated hospital bed. I wanted you with me. I wanted to spend the whole night cuddling and cherishing you but I was so weary worn. We both needed sleep. I felt numbed, alone and vulnerable in this indifferent setting of the post natal ward. There were other mothers just like me, in shock, worn out, resting and readjusting. A very disrespectful midwife tut tutted at me for daring to request that she perform a first nappy change on Little A. She sternly ordered me to change her nappy next time. I sternly reminded her that I still couldn't move my feckin legs from the epidural. Officious b**ch.
No, the moment came during our second night together. It was around 2 am. The ward was silent. The only sounds came from the occasional punctuations of half hearted snores and newborn snuffles. Little A was due a feed. I awoke to find her looking towards me with dribble bubbling and flowing from her mouth onto her baby grow, blankets and bedding. Time for a change. I sat up, lent over, acknowledging the inhibiting stretch of my scar, and prised Little A from her tank. I sat her on my knee. She looked up at me. I gazed down upon her.
And then... And then...
And then our eyes locked in an endless moment. It was just me and Little A. Our togetherness. Our world. And her eyes. Her stunning eyes. Two intensely shining royal blue pools which beamed intelligence, brightness and an exquisite innocence yet untouched by the trials of life. So pure. So trusting. And so utterly full of love. And I felt naked, stripped to the bone, unable to hide anything as her eyes focused intently upon mine. For a fleeting moment I doubted that I was good enough. Was I worthy of the title role of mummy? I gazed on and became lost in this precious soul. My heart danced, soared and seated Little A on it's central throne. The tears rolled down my flushed cheeks virtually unnoticed. In that moment the deepest recognition happened between us and it was simply this ....... hello mummy, hello baby.
I like to imagine the following silent conversation took place between us during that magical time .....
''Hello. I'm your mummy. You're my darling baby. My beautiful, beautiful little girl. I can't believe you're here. It's you. You're really here.''
''Hello. You look really nice, snugly and friendly. I especially like those two huge dangly things."
"What's a mummy?''
''Well a mummy, me, is someone who will keep you safe, protected and love you to the moon and back. I will love you forever and ever.''
''Ooooooh lucky me. That sounds nice. What else will you do?"
''I will be your endless provider and nurturer. My arms will envelope you in times of joy and woe. I will feed you, clothe you, entertain you and make you feel good about who you are .... (and probably lose myself in the process).''
''Wow. That sounds fantastic. I'm soooooo lucky.''
''Can I have an iphone and a pony?''
''Er, yes, what?''
''Can I have some booby milk now?''
''Okay, go on then, and it's not booby milk, it's mummy milk.''
Lifts top up, clamps babe on <slurp>.
And that's why I love blue .... Because apart from jeans, seas, skies and flowers it captures that eternal, private moment between Little A and I.