Later, the child talked to me, it held conversation. After a few moments I knew this was odd. I asked him how he could talk. “I get my smarts from my mother.” he said. “I get my crudeness from you”.
I knew, as I held the child again, that he was fine and ready and needed less of my help and protection. Then I thought about all of the things I held dear before his birth and realised they meant far less to me now.