The sun rises every day, but each dawn is unique, a doorway to a new room waiting to be furnished, or a tilled field ready for planting.
When I became a mother for the first time, it was all new to me—the birth, bringing our daughter home on a cold February day to our recently purchased house, and then learning to take care of an infant. Breastfeeding was easy; trying to figure out how to unfold the heavy baby carriage and get it and her out the door and down the steps was not. But—the second time I became a mother, it was new again. There were similarities–it was another cold February day, but the labor was different, and I was different. Caring for a toddler and a baby at the same time was also a new experience. Like each day, each birth is both similar and singular, as is every child.
Frost-laced ground
incubates hopes and dreams–
daffodils rise
This is a haibun for dVerse, where Lillian has asked us to write about a something we’ve experienced that’s new. We first planted daffodils when I was pregnant with our older daughter, and this year, we planted more because it seemed like something hopeful for the spring. (By we, I mean I ordered them, and my husband planted them. Teamwork. 😏 )
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
Oh how I love this post! And yes….a beautifully writ traditional haiku to end the haibun. And then your explanation of the daffodils. Wondrous! Thank you for sharing.
Aww–thank you so much, Lillian. I have such trouble with haiku and haibun. 😀
I love how each change is both the same and different simultaneously… planting daffodils we never did this year, it seems such a long time until they will bloom. I hope our old one will come back
Thank you. Many of our daffodils that we planted long ago still come back, so I imagine yours will, too. I hope so.
Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.
Thank you, Paul!
I like that you planted daffodils. They are such a welcome harbinger of spring. May they brighten your 2021!
Thank you very much, Beverly!
So much of this sounds familiar. Breast feeding easy, getting pushchairs in and out of apartment blocks a nightmare! It was all a challenge though, and each time a different one. Your haiku is similar to mine too. It would be though, wouldn’t it?
Thank you. That’s so funny! I will go read yours now. 😀
How wonderful Merril.
Thank you, Linda.
Pregnancy and newborns, waiting for Spring daffodils, is so life-affirming. I found out a bit ago that my younger son’s wife is expecting a baby in May. God is merciful, as I had been dreading this winter.
Thank you, and congratulations! Something to look forward to for sure!
🙂 You’re welcome and yes! May 3 is her due date.
💙
As men, we witness more than experience birth, but at least we share in the parenting; at least most of us do.
Yes, of course, having children was a new experience for my husband, too.
I’ve never made another human, but you tell it well. (I’ve been around awhile…)
Well done
Thank you, Ron. 😀
The wonder of new life–the same, but always different. (K)
Yes, exactly! Thank you, Kerfe.
Aww, this is beautiful. Isn’t it amazing how such similar events can bring different experiences? It’s, in some ways, mystifying to think about, but then again, everybody is their own person no matter if a baby or toddler. 😀
Very beautifully penned and I am SO in love with the haiku. It’s quite hopeful and such a great take on new beginnings.
Aww–thank you, Lucy! I so appreciate your very kind comment. 😀
How beautiful, Merril. I laughed at your closing line. 🙂
Thank you very much, Jill. 😀
Very, very sweet, Merril.
-David
Thank you, David.
Each birth is a new beginning, unique and precious. Thanks for bringing back some happy memories with your poem.
Thank you, Ali. I’m pleased I brought back some happy memories!
I really like your haibun and how the daffodils tie in. I was reminded me of my mother’s telling me the differences between having her first child (me) and her second (my brother) and how tough it was caring for an infant and a toddler.
Thank you, Liz. I’m sure I had it much easier than some, but it’s definitely an adjustment going from one child to two.
You’re welcome, Merril. I was a one-and-done.
😀
This brought back memories for me! Their was always a buggy and some stairs to be gotten up or down! And the second was very different from the first, as motherhood became a true juggling act. The daffodil metaphor is delightful! Just the hope we need right now 🙂
Thank you very much, Ingrid! 😀
Nicely reflective
Thank you, Derrick.
A beautiful opening paragraph, Merril, such a personal account of becoming acquainted with newborn babies, and a delightful haiku.
Lovely reflection on birth and re-birth. I do like the ideas of daffodils in January although I’m enjoying an abundance of amaryllis this month.
Thank you, Marian. Actual daffodils in January would be both lovely and strange, but I look forward to them blooming in the spring. 😀
Wonderful, Merril. For me, breastfeeding was the difficult part – only really managed with the third one; the first being in hospital for the first two months of his life, the second refusing me.
Love that you added daffodils to the mix!
Thank you very much, Dale. You certainly had a different and difficult situation. I love daffodils. 😀
Ah well… the pregnancies were fabulous – I loved being pregnant and had no morning sickness, no cravings, no nothing. Well, except for Austin, there were some issues. Daffodils are such happy flowers!
I did not love being pregnant–morning/all day sickness for months and my face all broken out. 😀 Daffodils are definitely happy flowers. (If you listen carefully, you can hear them laughing.)
Poor you! I know I was lucky. Austin gave me the most grief. I did break out in some sort of rash but it was there and gone rather quickly. I did think I had miscarried him. Twice. But after, all went well.
Yes! I was going to say that about daffodils!
“I did think I had miscarried him. Twice.” Yikes! I didn’t have a rash, just acne–it was always tied to hormones for me. And the morning sickness got better when I learned I just had to eat every two hours. 😏
Yeah. That was horrible. And something that often occurs with babies later born with heart defects, I’m told. Though one does not mean the other. I was always lucky re acne. My sister had nine months of all-day sickness with her twins. Could you imagine? Ugh. Glad you were able to find a solution. 😊
😀
I enjoyed your haibun and your ‘post-haibun’. Rich moments.
Thank you very much, Janice! 😀
Love the post! Love the poem!
Thank you so much, Linda!
A wonderful memory and a great haibun. I love the haiku!
Thank you so much, Dwight.
You are welcome!
Love your focus on motherhood ~ I can relate as I had three under three to chase around many decades ago. The haiku is a perfect end to your poem. Cheers!
Thanks so much, Helen. Three under three?! Yikes! My two are almost exactly three years apart.
I love the idea of the frost incubating our hopes and dreams in your haiku! The rebirth that comes paired with the prose of literal birth reminds us that life will return but always unique in the moment and with each new creation! 💕
Thank you so much, Tricia! ❤️
Oh my, your haibun enters with some gorgeous metaphors. I like where you took the theme as there is just nothing newer than birth, the uniqueness of a baby’s arrival and the uniqueness of our children. They definitely bring something to new to our lives on a regular basis.
Thank you very much, Mish!
You brought me right to the first time for me, as well. First pregnancy, labor, childbirth, nursing, opening the &*&^% equipment! And yes, two years later, on the same month (June for us) same thing yet so different. Each of my babies have bloomed into separate flowers: one a rose with thorns, one a daisy, bright and cheery except when she droops. 🙂 “incubates hopes and dreams” – a wonderful line that speaks to so much about our lives…and our first times.
Thank you so much for your lovely and thoughtful comment, Pam. My two are different, but so much the same. Younger one says her husband always knows when she’s been talking to her sister because of the way she talks and her mannerisms. 😀
Love that. I always knew when my mom (Marcia) had been talking on the phone to her sister (Betty – who lived on the other side of the country) because suddenly Marcia talked like/sounded like Betty!
❤️