Your Body, Mine

Written by Kelly on October 18th, 2009

It comes to me while shampooing my daughter’s hair, the intimacy of the moment. The air in the bath is laden with steam. My daughter’s body is clothed in only bubbles. She giggles innocently as I rinse her head with clean water from the tap. I am simply wrecked by how beautiful a body can be, as I watch her mock dive under imaginary waves with the sweet of her cheeks as dolphin fin. There is no shame in this moment. There is no shame as my daughter shakes the bathwater from her skin and crawls into my toweled arms. I am her refuge from the cold. She molds herself against my hip. I am overcome with something akin to religion. My body belongs to her. She is of my body.

Later on, she struggles to put on her pants. Don’t help me, Momma! I do it myself. Her fingers pull frantic at the cloth. She kicks her tiny legs in frustration. I want to reach out with my experience and my expertise to slide up the soft cotton of her waistband. She will not let me. She is certain and stubborn that she can bend her body to match her will. For this, I am so grateful. And yet, I mourn the prelude this moment is, my daughter’s body growing up and away from my own.

Right now, I can draw the lines of my daughter’s skin and bones from the most recent of memory. There are no secrets between our bodies. My lap is the place that she burrows. My neck the simple statement that childhood love can make when clasped in lazy circles with her tiny hands. There does not exist between us the boundaries that age will bring. I wonder how long our intimacy will last?

Someday we will retreat behind closed and private doors to change our clothes. Hairs will sprout against the Irish creme of her legs, and her naked budding breasts will be foreign to me. Who will be her recognition, then, if it is not me? Then there will be mirrors, and the eyes of hopeful lovers who I pray will be forever grateful for the abundance of her body and her gifts. I ache against the thought that is that day, even as I know that I will celebrate it when it is finally here. 

Now, my daughter and I lay side by side in comfort and familiarity. She curls her body against me, a perfect fit from hip to chin. We listen to the rain fall. We watch birds seek shelter outside the window above. Our breaths are slow and gentle, our hearts beat a song of syncopation. My body belongs to her. She is of my body.

Someday my daughter will grow up. Someday she will grow away from me. Today is not that day.

20 Comments so far ↓

  1. Oct
    18
    9:13
    AM
    starrlife

    Deftly described. The innocence is so profound, the physicality of my daughter is so indescribably part of my love for her. Yet you describe it- thanks.

  2. Oct
    18
    9:27
    AM
    deb

    Lovely. You’re right, it is hard to watch our children grow up and away, become their own person, separate. I think moms always feel more of a connection than children do. I feel it with my own children, but not with my mother.

  3. Oct
    18
    9:41
    AM
    Megan

    Very, very nice.

  4. Oct
    18
    9:43
    AM
    Amie aka MammaLoves

    This is so beautiful. I have three sons, so they grow even farther away from me. And yet I knew every inch of them…

  5. Oct
    18
    11:26
    AM
    Deedle

    Hold on tight because the changes come so quickly but yet so subtlety. Their hair barely brush my hands as they rush out the door into their lives. I have a 15 year old and 11 year old girl and the days pass much too quickly.

    Beautiful post. As always.

  6. Oct
    18
    1:28
    PM
    karen

    That made me cry. Just lovely.

  7. Oct
    18
    1:56
    PM
    Holli

    Absolutely amazing, inspiring and touching. Wow.

  8. Oct
    19
    5:06
    AM
    wn

    wow…that made me sigh…heavily….because I felt it…right there..for a minute.

    lovely

  9. Oct
    19
    7:42
    AM
    AmyMusings

    Beautifully written. I could read an entire book where that came from. Sink into it, love it and pass it on to a good friend. That was….thanks for that!!!

  10. Oct
    19
    9:29
    AM
    krista

    just the other night, i was giving my 20 month old daughter a bath and sat, staring, memorizing her skin and her hips and holding my heart to see how her legs are already losing the signs of baby and growing and threw wishes upon her skin for kindness and grace when she starts criticizing her reflection.
    this was so beautifully written.

  11. Oct
    19
    9:52
    PM
    Veronica

    Yes. This.

  12. Oct
    21
    8:51
    AM
    ubermouth

    Very touching analysis.

  13. Oct
    21
    7:13
    PM
    magpie

    Perfectly said. I know well of what you speak.

  14. Oct
    21
    7:51
    PM
    Kim (frogpondsrock)

    It is a circle. She will grow away and then she will return to you. My grand daughter now extends this circle and she is of my body as well.

  15. Oct
    22
    6:52
    AM
    hef

    I’ve been lurking around for a few weeks now and this post pulled me into commentary.

    I have a daughter, barely three, and this post just says it all.

    Beautiful.

  16. Oct
    23
    4:52
    PM
    Patty

    Wow, that was beautifully written. And so true. It is exactly how I feel about my little girl.

  17. Oct
    24
    8:52
    AM
    Diana

    Beautiful. I’ve been trying to memorize my 3 yo daughter’s scent. But, it seems like it changes daily! <3

  18. Nov
    21
    1:56
    PM
    Dia

    Brought me to tears. Thank you for this.

  19. Dec
    31
    5:54
    PM
    Kelly

    Okay…I’m done bawling now. Just finished putting my 12mo daughter to bed. This is a beautifully written expression of the bond between mother and daughter that is truly a gift from God. I felt every word. Just superb.

  20. Jan
    7
    6:18
    PM
    rachel-asouthernfairytale

    simply beautiful.

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