Intimacy

Today, while breast feeding Peatuk, I started crying. It was just a trickle of hot, salty tears and a bit of a smile as he faded away to sleep. I am not sure what it was. He is in pants and shirts a lot more than onesies these days, and maybe it was that he looks so big in those clothes compared to the tiny little being that we held with fear of breaking 7 months ago.

He closed his eyes. His jaw slowed, and I stroked his tiny yet plump fingers. I realized that I have never had this level of intimacy with someone in my entire life. This is coming from an intimacy addict. I love getting intimate with people. Physical intimacy. Sexual intimacy. Emotional intimacy. Mental intimacy. I get excited by sharing and having people share with me. Honesty excites me. I respect vulnerability. So, I have had quite a few intimate relationships, from friends to lovers, and nothing comes close to the intimacy I experience with this little guy.

It is weird to talk about physical intimacy and not immediately jump to sexuality. But being able to kiss his foot and hear him giggle with joy- having to wipe his bottom and inspect his poop for the latest gastrointestinal offenders- allowing him to lick my face and chomp on my nose as he tries to learn how to give kisses- these trump even the most open hugs and massages that I have shared with friends.

Part of me knows that this intimacy is only temporary. The more self aware and self sufficient he becomes, the less our bodies will be one. It is a fading intimacy since the moment of birth. However, as that physical intimacy fades, there is the mental and emotional intimacy growing in its place.

This little guy is learning who he is. He is learning what he likes and needs, and he is learning to communicate it. For the time being, I get to be the primary person he practices and explores with. I get to know his entire vocabulary. I can anticipate his habits better than he can. It is an amazing feeling.