A little background. We have housed about four baby pigeon births/hatchings under the patio since we moved here. Sometimes there are two babies, sometimes one. Until the babies are able to fly off on their own into the Barbados sun, there is a lot of cooing and pooing and just general messiness on the patio where Lily and Virginie play and we often eat lunch and dinner. Once we have been sure that an egg has been laid, we do not touch the nest. Hence the daily knock down which, until now, has prevented the birds from getting a real footing. We have even put up coral along the edge to make it difficult for nesting.
On my afternoon knockdown, I saw it fall into the bushes below. A tiny white egg. I gasped and swallowed hard. I went to have a look and saw it, still intact, resting in the bushes, tiny and smooth and perfect. The proud parents returned with more sticks and branches in a state of shock, searching desperately for their little one. Shit! was the first thing I said and that brought Lily out to the patio immediately. I called out to them, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know she was there! I gestured for them to see her there in the bushes, afraid to touch the egg because I remember hearing something, probably in third or fourth grade, that if you touch an egg that has fallen the mother will never return to it, smelling a human scent on her precious. I let the egg lie and went inside. Distraught.
It has been a long time since I have wept like I did this evening. Probably since the postpartum started to lift when it seemed I cried about six or seven times a day. I'm exhausted and while I am usually able to distract myself with daily chores, dedication to the girls, concerns for our future and monkey madness, Virginie's refusal to wear a diaper, even as she was going to sleep, just put me over the edge. I couldn't help feeling ashamed about the egg and I was still injured by my error. I lashed out in one minute and held on to the babes in the next. They were surely wondering what the heck was up with me, so I told them. I told Lily and Virginie's smile, because though Virginie is a genius, I was not sure she could grasp my hurt and my sorrow.
I told Lily that when I'd tried to remove the birds' nest as I had often done, a tiny egg had fallen out into the bushes. I told her that I was incredibly sorry and saddened that this egg would not get to be a baby bird because I had been so insistent on having my way. She listened intently and asked where the mommy and daddy birds had gone. I told her that they were trying to find more branches to protect their little egg that Mommy had knocked down. She understood that it was an accident and told me as much. While I agreed with her, my heart hurt and I was really sorry and sorry for myself. I should have been more careful, more considerate.
The tears tonight were for me, I have had enough therapy to know that. I was feeling so tired and alone and ashamed and without anyone to build a wall of sticks and branches around me. I was just over being the mommy tonight and wanted to curl up and finish reading my book, practice my French with abandon, watch some trash on television. Instead I found myself a murderer, a hack Momma who dully went over Lily's vocabulary words with her and read two Fancy Nancy stories without the usual character voices. The girls, God bless them, went to sleep quickly tonight and gave me a chance to sit in the relative quiet of our home and try to write something. My husband, no surprise to anyone, was still at work handling a party and prepping for tonight's cocktail party. When he did arrive, he found a shrunken lady on the couch still wrecked over the never-will-be baby bird.
The same thing happened to me once, he'd said. He'd felt so badly he hadn't even wanted to tell me about it. Said he'd thought about it all night when it happened. Was hurt and sad. Tonight, he put his arm around me and told me that I was a good mother, that he loved how I cared for them all, even a tiny egg. Sometimes, that's all I need.
(c) Copyright 2011. City Mom in the Jungle.
