more thoughts for Thursday

We watched the film "March of the Penguins" the other day. I loved it.

First - I did not know all that they went through just to have a penguin baby. I'm in awe. I didn't realize the fathers spent so much time raising the baby, literally holding the baby's life in their...well, on their feet, under a flap of fat - but well - you know what I mean.

Second and more importantly - I am not unlike an Emperor Penguin.

The mothers and fathers spend much of the year trading the egg and then the baby. They precariously pass the baby between their bellies so that the baby stays protected from the harsh cold. Then, whomever was relieved starts off for a long trek to the sea to eat and rest and then eventually head back and relieve the parent left behind.

I turned to K at one point and said - that's just like us! Someone flies home - hi! how are you? good to see you. quick kiss, here's the kids - please make sure x, y and z happen. see you later!

There was a scene in the documentary that showed a mother penguin having lost her baby after a particularly harsh winter storm. When the storm lets up - the mother is left looking at her frozen baby at her feet. She pokes at it a little. She lets out a cry. She pokes again. It takes her a painfully long time to finally leave the little baby. She has suffered and waited and endured so much and yet, she will be left to watch the other mothers take care of their babies while she sits alone. And then - heartbroken, the mother attempts to steal a baby from another mother. A fight ensues with others coming to the rescue of the mom and babe.

What is it in a mother's chemistry that makes losing a baby so painful? Its not just an emotional thing. It transcends species. I've seen and heard it happening with whales, with apes, with cats, with dogs, with chickens. Mothers grieve no matter their species.

I lost a son - stillborn at full term. After he was born and I'd gone home...I was physically crazy. My body was making milk for a baby I couldn't feed. I have never had such a strong desire to mother something, anything. I would hold my daughter's baby dolls just to have something in my arms. I tried to coax my previously very independent daughter back into babyhood by trying to let convince her to let me brush her teeth and dress her and feed her. I ached. My body needed to be carrying something. To this day, when I am getting children out the door - I will often turn around after the last one is ready and hesitate. I am forgetting one and even after almost ten years, it takes me a moment or two to remember that one isn't here.

Something has changed in my chemistry and I am no different than an Emperor penguin.