Oscar amazes me every day. To watch him learn and grow, these things are my bliss. He is a maverick, a comedian, an explorer. He is so many things. But what amazed me the most is the way he and I fit together, the way we interlock.
When he was first born, I remember thinking about how he fit perfectly under my arm to nurse, and how ideal the size of his body was for cradling. I could carry him in the crook of my elbow. It was like he belonged there.
As he got bigger, he still fit right into the curves of my body, like a piece of a puzzle, while nursing or just being carried around. His legs wrapped around my right hip and supported by my right hand. We were made for each other.
Even now, as a big boy, his still tiny bottom fits perfectly in the nest of my lap. When I rock him to sleep at night, his left arm hooked around my neck and his head resting on my right shoulder, we fit together perfectly. It's almost like my body is a canyon and he is the river that shapes me as he careens violently towards adulthood.
I am different for having birthed him, for having known him.
He pulls away now, walking, learning, becoming an individual and I am proud of him. Even as I cheer him on and want him to go further, to learn more, to be more; the physical void I feel as he grows up aches mercilessly.
Although he is moving on from me, our connection is still strong. We have created each other and nurtured each other. I will always long for him and for the days when I was his whole universe and he was mine.
I am trying to let go, but it's hard when I feel the need to hold on so tightly.