It was summer during the last few weeks of my pregnancy. I spent those days resting, my hands too swollen to type; my feet too swollen to walk. My favourite spot was the living area. I used to open the balcony door and let the cool air – and the mosquitoes – in. There I contemplated the robust tree that provided some much needed shade to my place.
At the time, the leaves were perfect green. I pictured the sap running through the tree, nourishing its trunk, branches and leaves, much as my blood travelled through my body to found its way to the placenta to nourish my boy.
When my little person arrived the seasons started changing. Autumn came and went, leaving those beautiful orange and red leaves that always warm my heart. My hands and feet weren’t swollen anymore, but my breasts were full and dripping milk.
Suddenly my skin was a bit looser, my hair started to turn grey, my nails became brittle, and my eyebrows started to thin. My lips seem to be less full, perhaps less defined, my chin now sports a black hair I had never seen before, and I have a scar above my pubis – a reminder of how my boy decided to enter the world. My body feels like autumn too.
Now that the tree has run out of leaves and is getting ready for spring, I wonder if my body will do the same. Will I be a bit more mobile once the sun comes out again? Will I drip less milk? Will my hair ever come back? Will I be able to be fertile soil and fall pregnant again?
Only summer will tell, but in the meantime, I rejoice in my newly found sense of womanhood and hold my child a bit closer to me every night, as every day he grows a bit more.