Without Her, I Am Lost

In the beginning, it was dark and snug. I liked it, I think. I had nothing to compare it to.

All there was, was Her. Her footsteps were my cradle, the rhythm and rush of her blood my lullaby. I knew the scent and hot silk of her as my own Self. She surrounded me, protected me, defined me. Poured herself into me to grow me from nearly nothing. Cell by cell. Inch by inch.

She was Me.

Today, it all changed. Familiar, soft red darkness has been ripped away. In its place, there is light that hurts my brand new eyes.

There is also a new thing called Cold. I don't like it. Lots of new things, new sensations. I don't like most of them. My world isn't infinite silk anymore, it is punctuated by rough things and hard things to hurt or annoy my skin. Sounds, much too loud, unfiltered by the layers of Her. A cacophony of confusing colours and shapes.

Worst of all - she is gone!

The tight hammock of her body has deserted me. I reach for her, and reach and reach... but there is nothing there. I ball my fists and scrunch up my face, offended at the cavernous empty space all around me. The bottom has dropped out of my world. The world has dropped out of my world, and there is nothing left. Maybe not even me.

The warmth and smell and sound of her that had made up my entire universe: all gone.

It's too big here, or maybe I'm too small. I don't know which.

I don't know which way is up. She was my centre. My anchor, map and compass. Without her, I am lost. Worse than lost. Maybe I am dead, or as good as. Something will eat me, or I will have nothing to eat,and that will be the end of me.

But it's more than that. I only am in the context of Her. If she is gone, maybe I just am not.

I'm too little to hold these big thoughts, and they leak out of me in a long, heartfelt wail. I call for her, and there is no answer. She must be dead.

Moments of confusion and panic that last basically forever. My heart thunders away inside me. Without the anchor of hers to steady it, it gallops along in a panic.

And then, at last: bliss. Sheer bliss.

I am whole again. She is here! She cocoons me. Her arms are the only home I need. The warmth and smell that is the same as life to me is all around me again. I hear her voice, and I don't know all the words but I know what that voice means. It means it's OK, I'm here. I believe that voice. I know I will live.

I press my ear to her chest and although it is faint, I can just make it out: the familiar beat that measured all my days. My own pulse steadies. I'm okay. As long as she is here, I am okay and I am sure of it. My anchor, my map, my compass, my world, my Self. Her touch is ancient to me, written in stars.

I look up, and there she is. Amongst all the blurry shapes, I see her and of course that's what she looks like. I've never seen her before, but surely I would know her anywhere.

She is here.

I am Safe.

I am Found.

I am.

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Thank you for reading!

a/n - This is an entry to the Misplaced challenge.

Remember, a baby does not know he's been born into a relatively safe world. He knows in his bones that he is dead without his mother.