The other day, Michael was napping on his grandma, and she said to me, “I think our souls merged.” That baby on the chest feeling is just the best, I know, but have I even felt that soul-merging? I’m not sure that I have.
I love my son to pieces, and I’ve definitely been going through the emotions, but sometimes I still have trouble knowing any other cry but the hungry one, the one that means he needs me. He locks eyes with me like he knows something I don’t. And sometimes, when he stirs in the middle of the night, I wish he didn’t need me so much so that I could just keep sleeping instead. It’s all worth it, without a doubt, but it’s not always easy.
I know that he and I have a connection all our own, because we shared so much for so long, and still do with the breastfeeding and all, but I don’t know if I could say with such certainty that our souls have met in any significant way, the way my mother says it. But I guess that’s the way it is with any relationship. My son’s bond with his mother is going to be a different one than he has with his dad, with his grandparents, and each grandparent is going to experience him in their own way, too. It’s a beautiful thing, these human connections, and it’s beautiful to watch my mother’s and my son’s souls collide. It’s beautiful to watch my husband with him, too. They’ve also got a beautiful visible bond.
I guess that I will spend a lot of time watching my son form all sorts of different relationships over the course of his life. And each one will be different than the next, different still from what the two of us will share. And I’ll just have to be okay with that, even if I haven’t quite touched his soul yet, myself.