The tapestry of silence


So, a new addition to our clan. Nephew #4 for me. And while my sister was hoping for a natural birth, this late little star gazer wouldn’t engage.She called me on Wednesday.

“I’m in scrubs.” Meaning – I’m having a cesar and I’m kinda scared.

Awesome. How do you look?” Meaning – I’m kinda scared too. I’m here when you need.

We bantered some useless infomation. Me telling her to count backwards from 10. Her telling me that scrubs are slimming. We laughed. We hung up.

Healthy little M was born that morning.

They keep you in for a few days when you have a cut in your belly. And even though her hormones and heart wanted her to be at home with her other 2 smalls, she bit her tongue and stayed. For 3 nights.

There were phone calls each day.

About names.
About bellys.
About support undies.

And each time I knew she was saying “I’m kinda scared.” While each time I was saying “I’m coming.”

Because sisters can communicate beyond the tapestry of words.

As the summer finally hit the Bellarine, I left my own zinked crew to drive the Melbourne road. And arrived alone at her door.

When all had gone to bed, we laughed in the kitchen about well meaning paediatricians and old school midwives.

And for the first time in a long time, we didn’t have a beer.

Towards midnight my sleep filled with their sounds. His painful belly. Her exhausted sighs.

“I’ll take him.” – I love you
“Are you sure?” – I know

Sometimes listening can be so hard that it hurts.

In her silence, I took this little one and rubbed the wind from his belly. And in letting go, my sister surrendered into her fatigue. And slept. Knowing that her sister was here. And would take care of her.

Because that’s what big sisters do.

Think restorative, forward bends and mouna.

The words that we use can have meaning far beyond that which we consciously know. In the deep knowing that we are supported no matter how scared, hurt or alone we may feel, is the light that connects us all as spirit.

Surrendering into silence can open us into our deepest power. As sisters. As mothers. As women.

As love.

She let go of her son and became my baby sister again.

This week an actor named Samuel finished riding a unicycle around the continent. He raised over 1.2 million dollars to help his sister.

I simply burped my nephew.

And while she will comment on this and bag the absolute crap out of me, I know thats her way of saying thanks.

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