We have all had a moment,
Hoarded, savored in memory,
A brief passage of extreme joy.
We treasure the happening
Cling to it throughout life.
It’s euphoria induced by;
An achievement, award
Victory, recognition, love.
Mine haunt to this day,
The high after the birth.
I held her in my arms
I floated in ecstasy,
A feeling so intense that,
When the second child was born
I remembered and cried out,
“Where is my high?”
I was happy, but
A re-occurrence never came.
So I save that singular moment
Retain it as my life’s apex.
© Copyright, July 2015, Jane Stansfeld
jstansfeld 
I can remember just how much I loved my children at first sight on birth, but no doubt my experience by no means measures up to the feeling of a mother who carries for nine suspenseful months and then sees that life face to face for the first time.
I suspect that the joy is equal. The mother also feels and intense relief that the discomfort is over. At the end of the ninth month she is ready for labor, even if it is a painful step into another phase of live.
This is wonderful, lovely and well simply wonderful.
You are a dear – what a wonderful comment! Thank you for y our visit.
That is a very special moment, for fathers too, in their different way. I remember the sense of connection – something primal and instinctive beyond any other emotion. I don’t think any of us can ever top that. I know I never will.
I’m glad that they allow fathers to participate. My youngest daughter let me be in the room for her two deliveries. Both were fantastic and almost matched my high with my first-born.
Perhaps it does need a poem…..I await your magic pen!
Having a baby was an apex, but also because I took no drugs my body produced a lot of adrenalin, and other ‘drugs’ on its own, I attribute these to the ecstasy rather than the emotion of having a prefect baby girl.
I agree that the dwindling photographs is a common phenomena and when there are seven then surely the novelty wears off. Our mother only had seven pregnancies with four live births. Like you I was the first and my brother, the last, is ten years my junior. She was forty-five by then and so I, as I suspect you did, happily assumed many of the baby caring duties.
With my girls I tried to generate the same records for my second as for the first, I probably didn’t accomplish it but came close. Nowadays all that is usurped by digital photographs so that many have no hard copies in albums as we did in the past. Perhaps this topic needs a poem?
I imagine what you say, that giving birth for the first time can be the apex of joy in one person’s life. But what I love about this poem is it’s truthfulness—that the high didn’t come again. Makes me wonder about mothers of large families. ( I hope your second child doesn’t mind playing second fiddle to all the excitement.:-)
I was my mother’s firstborn. She had nine pregnancies and seven live births. By the time my little sister came along—15 years my junior, but very cherished because there had been five boys in between us—my mum was middle-aged and tired. The thing that tells the tale is our photo album(s)….tons and tons of photos of me.. and the pictures get lesser and lesser, dwindling as time goes on….
Having a baby was an apex, but also because I took no drugs my body produced a lot of adrenalin, and other ‘drugs’ on its own, I attribute these to the ecstasy rather than the emotion of having a prefect baby girl.
I agree that the dwindling photographs is a common phenomena and when there are seven then surely the novelty wears off. Our mother only had seven pregnancies with four live births. Like you I was the first and my brother, the last, is ten years my junior. She was forty-five by then and so I, as I suspect you did, happily assumed many of the baby caring duties.
With my girls I tried to generate the same records for my second as for the first, I probably didn’t accomplish it but came close. Nowadays all that is usurped by digital photographs so that many have no hard copies in albums as we did in the past. Perhaps this topic needs a poem?