Nesting, 2, sidenote


Funny, On the night I’m thinking nesting, there is a Big Bird nesting episode on Sesame Street, an up-high nestful of squaggling, squeaking birdies on my walk, and this–my daughter happened to spot a box in my room, a sweet white box with a sticker of a yellow egg. Inside this, a piney wooden egg, some packed-down blue shreds and in the very interior, my son’s umbilical cord, like waxen floss, gathered like old Indian leather.

It was all, minus the cord, handmade.

In Japan, the cord is special, maybe even sacred? Certainly not to be tossed, not lost, not for some blue plastic biohazard box.

This is the very thing, even another string, inflated and filled with life, travelling life, which held, first tied mother and child together. And “heso“, or the point of connection, that little belly button navel, never seemed cool until my little peewees sported their own.

It only comes from being born. For Mother, too. A being born.

The nest becomes the beginning, a collecting place of all that will change.

What is an interesting or funny momento saved from your own birth, your child’s, or someone you know? What do you wish you’d saved? Would you be creeped out by an old withered umbilical cord?

*Interesting umbilical cord article re Japan: read here

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