Winter Solstice

At the Possums Clinic over the past three years you often came to see me at a time when everything, everything, had changed for you in unexpected ways, when nothing was what you thought it would be. So much of what you’d known had fallen away. Maybe you sat there racked by a bone-deep love for your baby, convinced you were failing, or terrified by the love that you thought you should feel but couldn’t. Maybe your body hurt, badly, and the baby cried more than you could bear, and you had never known such tiredness because there seemed to be no rest, and your brain kept running over and over through those terrible worried thoughts, and you really were quite certain that you could not go on. But you found new things in yourself, somehow, little by little. And you went on. Lately, since I’ve left the clinic that I birthed and loved into life, I’ve been thinking on you a lot. I’ve learnt from you, and I thank you. Like the seedling trembling up out of the earth, like the cicada splitting its winter shell, like the butterfly, like the sunrise, new things are coming. We risk so much to create new things! But would we want to live any other way? Pam