One night after friends had visited, we went into town and before long I found myself dancing in an underground recordning studio to music I hadn't heard before with a blur of faces I knew and also many I didn't. I danced wildly and thought of nothing, only my sleeping baby now and then and hoped that all was well, trying to tell myself that to be away from him was OK even if I didn't really believe myself. There are strange moments like these where I return to being some crazy young thing where I stop being a mother for a moment and pretend. I always thought that when you became a mother something changed, that you looked different in some way. But when I was dancing there, in the middle of the night, I wondered how anyone could know that there is a tiny, new person dependent on me, that this dancing girl was a mother to a fragile baby and I don't know why but I felt so special then, like I had this beautiful and precious secret and two different lives that were both full of excitement for such different reasons.
When we were called home because August had woken I almost ran. The switch from crazy to mother had gone off and all I wanted was my baby in my arms. When I walked inside a sad little face greeted me, arms outstretched towards his mama. I took him quickly and put him to my breast. His cries were replaced with deep long breaths and I stroked his head as he eagerly drank. He slept wrapped in my arms, warm and close and I fell asleep too feeling his tiny breath against me.
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