Writing Isaiah: Entry #1

Writing Isaiah

Entry #1

May 3rd, 2013

Martha Lynn Tamburrano: 

How is your relationship with your mother changing because you are pregnant again? (Selfish question, I know) 

Emily Joye McGaughy-Reynolds: 

Selfish is good in this case, though I think that's a rather harsh term, momma. I keep hoping these writings will flow forth and from the interpersonal, intrapersonal, in between and through the relational and familial. You, of course, are perhaps the one, with J.R. a close second, who can make these river currents of writing possible because of the blood we share. I was in your body once. You nursed and nurtured and influenced and sustained my life. Still are sustaining my life. My relationship with you is always changing, but these pregnancies, these pregnancies, my G-d, they are changing it in such powerful ways. Ways worthy of reflection. So while it may be a selfish question, I am glad you have asked it because this is a terrain of thinking-writing (as Helene Cixous would say) that I must embark too. Thank you for the generous provocation. 

When I found out that I was pregnant with Aurora, you were (second to Brennen who just happened to be in the house) the first person I called. You were in Macy's, remember? I recall knowing that you'd be surprised by the timing, because I was supposed to have difficulty conceiving according to the medical establishment, but that you'd be thrilled by the fact. After all, you'd been coaching me about it all for almost two years. With the second pregnancy, the orientation of the call was entirely different. I knew about the pregnancy for a full 24 hours before calling you. Which, of course, felt like an eternity, because I rarely, if ever, hold such huge life unfoldings to myself, away from you, for that long. You see, I didn't know, because of the timing of it all, how to tell you the story. 

Now that I am in the second trimester and the news is settling, the reality of Isaiah's life becoming evident of its own accord--I am mindful that this is an experience you've never had. You've mentioned it a few times too. A second pregnancy, a second kid, a son, a sibling in the house--you didn't go through this. We didn't go through this. In all honesty: it scares me and makes me feel proud. Like, I'm charting my own life, not just repeating yours, blazing a new path and creating new novelties for the bloodline. But I'm also scared because of how much I rely on the wisdom of your experience to guide me through stuff. It's not that I won't listen to you and you won't have wisdom to offer. Babies are babies. People are people. Families are families. You have expertise on it all. But it'll be different. I don't know how--just different. 

The other way my relationship to you is changing is this: I am getting more and more aware of how much I need you. Like, practically (I could really use a family member, an older/wiser/more patient one around to help me) and spiritually. One of the affects of your love upon me is calm: when you're around, though it may sound cliche, I feel more secure, more safe, more capable, less alone, less intimidated by life. Especially when I'm doing stuff for the first time, you help me navigate new water with a particular kind of strength. I'm doing marriage and kids for the first time in my life, at the age of 31. I feel like I've never needed the canon of your knowledge like I do now: both the knowledge of your successes and failures. Yes, we can talk on the phone. But I want to talk on the couch, when the babies are napping. Or at the park, holding them on our laps, as we swing on the swing set. I want them to grow up in the "shadow of the Most High"--the place of Mother-Daughter love that goes before them and paves the way. I want my babes to witness the truest true love between us because it can't have anything other than a life-family deepening influence of them. Perhaps its because my family has expanded so rapidly that my feelings about family have changed so rapidly. I'm no longer content with the distance. During my 20's when I was detaching and exploring and cultivating my own vocation, it was necessary and good. But now? Now what's the benefit? You are one of my favorite people in the whole world. I want my kids to know you. Know you well. And so of course this desire to be closer--physically, geographically, bodily--with you puts me at odds with my current life. It's a grief I carry every single day. Every single day. 

Do you remember the other day I sent you that article called "The You in Me" from Psychology Today? It's about the way cells carry over & through bodies/generations. There's a quote I cannot get over: "The placenta allows fetal cells to steal into a woman, and maternal cells to slip into her child. Mom also has cells from her mother stowed inside her. Pregnant women host at least three generations of cells." You, me, Isaiah--all together, right this second, here inside my body. "Such knowledge is too high for me; I cannot attain it." (Psalm 139) 

Love,

Emily Joye