PRECIOUS
PRECIOUS
She lay closely nestled in the soft curve of my left arm. Her tiny body weighed only a few pounds, but the profoundness of her very existence weighed heavily upon my heart. Perfect, dainty fingers tightly held my index finger as she nursed for the first time.
I studied her gentle breathing while she contentedly suckled in her sleep, again drawing life and nourishment from my weary body. The gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed, and an occasional shiver of pleasure she experienced while nursing fascinated me.
The labor of her birth completely forgotten, I sat immersed in the ecstasy and wonder of her newness. Tenderness swelled from deep within me, and overflowed as tears began their slow caresses down my cheeks. Softly, a teardrop fell upon her fragile chin, disturbing her peaceful slumber.
The delicately curled, golden lashes fluttered briefly before her lids opened onto pools of exquisite azure. I kissed her tiny forehead tenderly, and we shared a delicious moment of recognition. Then, the sleep of the innocent carried her again from me into her newborn world of peaceful dreams.
My unconditional love wrapped her in the warmth of acceptance. Strong maternal instincts vowed to protect her from the bitter coldness of the world outside my arms. Contemplating the precious gift of her life, I realized we would always be connected. Our lives were forever bound in this moment of pristine beauty and recognition.
Raising my eyes from the wonder so deeply cuddled against my breast, I looked upon the shabbiness of the world into which I had birthed her. No longer demeaned by wretched loneliness, life now glowed with unsung possibilities, danced about me with the fervor of newborn enthusiasm.
Copyright Chula Schlesinger Fleming © February 9, 1989
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