rights of passage

On the night of River's birth, after Thom and I had spent some quiet time alone with him, we invited everyone into our room for a little Birth Day celebration. We handed out champagne and small mementos of our appreciation to our guests. As we all clinked glasses together, my midwife began singing this beautiful little lullaby:

The River he is flowing,
Flowing and growing,
The River he is flowing,
Down to the sea.

Mother! carry me, your child I will always be.
Mother! carry me down to the sea.

I was blown away that there was a song that so perfectly fit the moment and magically reflected our reality. I've kept that tune very close to me over the past two weeks--hearing it in my head as I fall asleep, singing it to our son in moments of stress or peace. He seems to respond to it, knowing it's his special song.

Then, there are moments like this morning when our little lullaby takes on a completely different meaning. Full belly and full pants from his morning nursing I laid River down for a diaper change, and just as I was ready to lift him into a fresh diaper he took the opportunity to really clean out his system--from both ends. As Thom attacked the spit up and I washed poop from my hands, we laughed and laughed knowing the River was, indeed, flowing.