Motherhood implied many things. Most of all, the word came with a warm, peaceful sensation. Pregnancy felt like an unspoken bow of love-- A bond created without the parts of it knowing each other. Without seeing each other’s eyes, but sharing feelings. When mom is upset, the child kicks. When the kid is upset, the mom feels it.
“FINE? LIKE BLOODY HELL I AM FINE!”
Motherhood was a path of comprehension, patience and love. A tale no one can fully describe until they reach the place, until the glee of life starts working in every cell, even in a molecular level. As if every nerve ending was connected, two beings in one, two hearts beating at the same tempo, dancing to the same rhythm.
“THIS THING FED OFF ME FOR NINE MONTHS, I WANT IT OUT”
Motherhood was a tale of sacrifice, about sharing your body and your feelings, as the circle of life commences with something as pure as the love shared between two beings, forming one soul that would carry their legacy, their teachings, their unconditional support…
“WHY COULDN’T I KEEP MY LEGS CLOSED?!”
Tangled red hair. Contractions, barely spaced, a sign of the marvelous joy to come. Of the happiness of love creating life, creating a whole new destiny, altering the course of everything. Giving the world a new heartbeat, a new voice, a new love.
“I FUCKING HATE YOU, POTTER!”
A tiny new life. An old, wild love.
“I’m going to need you to push, Mrs. Potter”
“AND DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M DOING ANYTHING ELSE?”
A spark of lust, a whole serving of love, and an unspoken bow of eternal love, comprehention and acceptance.
“NEVER AGAIN WILL YOU STICK YOUR DICK INSIDE ME, JAMES, BLOODY FUCK, NEVER!!”
A bunch of distant noises that didn’t make any sense, like a bunch of alarms ringing at their loudest, all while drowning in a sea of little lights that kept her from focusing on the task ahead, that was to give birth while getting a Guinness record on the loudest curses. Yet, one particular sound caught her attention.
“Lils, flower, look at me”, it was her husband’s voice, “I need you to relax”
“Well SAY that to the seven pounds that are struggling their way out of my vagina! Because…” a scream, “THE CHILD DOESN’T STRIKE ME AS THE RELAXED TYPE!”
She was sure she was breaking at least half of the bones in his hand, but she’d have time to apologize later, just after she took the bows of never having sex again, in her whole life, in front of the Pope itself for that matter.
“I WOULD IF A THING YOU MADE WITH YOUR WIENER WASN’T CRUSHING MY DIAPHRAGM!”
What a joyful moment motherhood was. What a show of love, what a true glimpse of paradise where love was the creator and the only guide, ruler of all.
“You’re almost there, Lils, you just… need to keep pushing!”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED-- AN EPIDURAL IS WHAT I NEED!”
After forty one minutes and thirty five seconds, that felt like roughly one and three quarters of eternity for her, the struggle was over. Tears of pain had no chance to dry because tears of joy replaced them, as every fear about bringing life was crushed down by the inexplicable happiness of watching a tiny, bloody bundle of blankets being placed near her chest by the shaky hands of her husband.
And the universe became one person. One breathing, crying, little angry person that was apparently missing his original home. No sound had been sweeter than that cry that softened as seconds passed, but time was no measure, because nothing could measure something as big as that small human was. It was in that moment where she understood what her purpose was. Who she was. What her love for James, her immense adoration for him meant. And just a cry—that tiny yelling voice was enough to know that she loved him. That she would never be complete if she didn’t have him, and his father.
That she loved Harry. And that she’d do whatever was in her power to keep him safe.
