Moments that change everything that came before...(Part Two)

So Tuesday 8 September, 2015 at 5:00pm and the visit from my daughter, right? 
But before that, a little context if I may so indulge....

I am two days on from the  weekend of moments 

that might just have changed everything that came before.

Still cosseted in a carefully and cleverly chosen cloud of vanilla and orchid scent, still feeling the closeness and comfort that are conjured so simply yet exquisitely through an ongoing connection that cannot be contained... 

Yes, I am a warm girl. 

In so many ways. 

Touch my heart and it will slowly burn for a long, long time.

Ignite it and there will be occasions of raw and unadulterated expression.

Protect, support and nurture.

Passion to be explored and experienced.

Inhibitions to be diminished.

Moments to be made.

 To be shared.

To be held close.

To be understood.

To understand.

To be loved.

And to love.

These are the moments 

that change 

everything that came before. 

And this is where my heart and mind may have been when I went about my typical Tuesday. It is challenging to slot back into weekday life which appears greyed out somehow when you have experienced such vibrancy and vitality. But with the warm glow of a technicolour In-Side Out-Side, I can do it. And onward I march.

So 5:00pm and the visit from daughter. She is now by my side. 
Nothing appears out of the ordinary but call it what you like, a mother's intuition perhaps, I note a slightly heightened level of distraction and a distinct reduction in eye contact from my 19 year old. I know that she hasn't come round just to say, 'hey.'

We head off walking up our street. Side by side. A plump silence swells between us. It's not uncomfortable but poignantly tangible. 

"So," I start. "What do you want to tell me?"

Then there is no hesitation. None whatsoever. "You already know," she says. 

The gap between us suddenly seems achingly wide. 

"You're pregnant," I breathe. 

Reaching to take her hand in mine; our fingers interlock without hesitation. 

The physical contact seems natural. 

The thousands of thoughts that flood the core of my mind do not. 

But I am here with my daughter.

My child; 

my little girl. 

In this moment. 

I am with her. 

For her. 

As her. 

And she needs me.

You will know what we think, feel and believe
Just take a look inside....

What I say now could shape the rest of her life and that of her unborn child. I know that.

Instinctively. 

Intuitively. 

I listen. I support. I reassure. I hug. I am present. I am here. 

She shares. She laughs. She questions. She talks. She pauses. She thinks. She feels. She sits. 

We hug. We squeeze. We cry. We touch. We hold. We speak. We say nothing.  

She is pregnant.

As a mother myself, I reach out to her.

My own child.

"It will be okay.

You will be fine."

And with those simple words, the barriers drop and there is talk of finances, living arrangements, the 3 pregnancy tests that have been taken in less than 24 hours, the doctor's appointment that was booked and then cancelled, the excitement, the fear, the nervousness...

And as she babbles, I have a very long held breath and it is starting to ache. Palpable pain with such precision that it is piercing through the muscle of my heart. I can feel the clouds of grey encroach in my mind. The doubts. The fears. The what-ifs...

And I can feel a little piece of my heart die. 

Just like that. 

And then she grows strangely quiet. I look at her. Her pale skin and her wide eyes. I hold her close. Her childishly smooth hands against my ageing skin. Big, questioning, clear eyes. Searching. For something. And in this moment, she carries me back with her. Right back to when she was just a young child. Trusting and vulnerable. But searching. For something.

Reassurance 

Acceptance

Unconditional Love 

And that is all that I can give her now in this moment.

A moment that changes everything that ever came before.