My Prince, My Rainbow, My Indigo, My Universe

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You came into this world screaming and alive, so alive and in that moment I got the experience of feeling alive in a way I had never before known on this plane. Hearing your tiny shriek in that too brightly lit room I felt a serenity wash away the flood of anxiety that was coiled in my stomach. You were here. You had crossed that bridge on to this Earth and we had found each other. You were precious, everything that I had prayed the Gods for my whole life, and everything I felt I did not deserve. Holding you for the first time felt like a victory that should be shouted from the highest mountains. It felt like the heart; my heart that had been blackened and frozen cold from life had thawed, joy unlike any I had ever known washed over me..until the moment that nurse tried to pull you from me and an indescribable rage flew over me. She was taking you from me; and I just wanted to bask in your ethereal presence for eternity. I didn't want to hand you over, then or now to anyone. I didn't care that my organs were out of my body, I didn't care that my eyes had blackness around the edges making it hard to see, I did not care that my hands were shaking; I needed you, more than I needed sunlight or laughter or oxygen.

Here we are almost three months later; most days I feel as if I'm failing. Sometimes my patience isn't where it should be, sometimes I am too quick to get frustrated, and the sleep deprivation makes my energy anxious and on edge. Sometimes I forget to notice the Universe in your eyes. Sometimes I forget to count your eyelashes and make a wish for your future on every one I count. Sometimes I can't stop the tears rolling down my face as I beg you for just five more minutes of sleep. But most of the time I stare at your angelic face and thank the old Gods that you are my heart. I whisper my love in the wisps of hair on top of your head, and breathe your scent in deeply, ingraining that smell into my very soul. I made this beautiful human, and sometimes I forget to savor the joy of that, sometimes it slips from my fingers as they shake in frustration. Motherhood has been a soul journey and a soulbond I wasn't prepared for. I wasn't prepared to experience the indescribable love, and fierce fierce protectiveness that I have experienced.

Your Daddy loves to pick on me that I am too controlling and strict about what you are exposed to, and he is dead right. You are not even three months old and you have already experienced bad energy, arguments, and screaming (not from his parents). I try so so hard to keep social constructs and toxic things, people, and energy away from you. You are the Chosen generation and I refuse, flat out refuse to let you be tarnished the way me and your Daddy were. I refuse to have toxic masculinity, racism, bigotry, misogyny shoved down your throat. You are pure. You are good. I refuse to let this world ruin you. I refuse to let myself ruin you. Raising you is like trying to walk on glass. I am so careful where I step. I am conscious. Your generation will have to undo our mess, you will have to save this Earth or you very may well be the last generation. That is a terrifying thought while raising the next generation, but as much as we don't want to admit it it is true. It is why we must be so careful. I don't want to raise children who have to recover from their childhoods.

As you grow and learn everyday, you also teach me daily. You teach me patience everyday, you teach me to love wholly. You teach me to forgive myself, and you teach me how to want to try to do better. As the days pass and your personality starts to develop I often hope and pray that you have your father's determination and strength and my voice and inability to stand for injustice. If you do, I fear any foe who crosses your path. I pray you stand by those weaker than you and fight for peace. I look at you and see a Warrior the likes of which can shake the world. I look at you and know I did some good for this Earth. If you are truly the best of me and your father, you will have a hard life. You will see all the bullshit that comes with this world, and it will be your mission to help. I will always hold your hand and pull you from the darkness that will threaten to consume you.

As you sit smiling and babbling to me, I can't help but wonder if the words you are saying are those passed down from the Ascended. Your eyes focus too well, your lips curl too well. The knowing looks you give make me wonder what knowledge you are trying to scream at me as you babble a thousand miles an hour. You are too old, you have too many stories to tell, too much knowledge to pass on, too many lives lived; I just thank you for picking me to be your mom in this one. I will do better. I will not fail you.

Atlas Rowan Neogra.
October 18th 2019 1:13PM