I have a thing about birds, as I might have mentioned. They tend to present themselves at significant times in symbolic ways though surely I'm looking, as always, for meaning.
My usual worry about losing S has extending to worrying about losing our baby, and about protecting this little family. I try to practice some detachment, to remind myself that my job is to let go of this child, to let him/her find his/her way in the world. I can protect my child the best I can when s/he's young, and teach him/her what I can, and that's it. Letting go is so hard, already, and I've not even met this child yet.
Last week there was a fledgling dove in front of our house, in the desert hibiscus. The mom was right next to the babe, sitting calmly. When I was near, she flew away. So it's not like she was (or should have been) risking her life irrationally to protect her young. She just stood by. When I returned to the car, the baby scurried away from the bush into the middle of the street. The mom followed and sat next to the baby. I approached the birds and again the mom flew away, and the baby went back to the sidewalk. I try not to interfere too much with critters' lives, but the middle of the road just didn't seem the best place for the baby.
Later that day, the pair were settled on a rock set far back from the street. I liked their camouflage, and they seemed safe there, though of course my mind ran to cats, to raptors. All the mom could do is sit near her baby until s/he was able to fly. The baby startled when we opened the car door that evening and flapped its way underneath a prickly pear, which seemed a brilliant choice. Predators wouldn't be able to get in.
I haven't seen them since Friday night, and I'm trying to tell myself that it's okay. I don't know that the baby made it, but it's okay not to know. Birds everywhere learn to fly. Some are killed by cars and hawks and cats, I realize. But it's true that some make it, some fly and grow up and protect babies of their own. Loss is part of life, and I try to remind myself of that. But I also have to remember that some stories have happy endings. Sometimes we get what we want.