Hello everyone,
I just wanted to share this lovely story that my mother dug up. It was
written by my great-grandmother (who breastfed her children till age five).
Hope you enjoy it, sorry I couldnt send it a few days before but I´ve
been on vacation.
Happy New Year and lots of mothers milk to you all!
Kika
FIVE DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS - A TALE
It was a stable excavated under rock on the outskirts of a small town. A
cold place, only the deepest corner heated by the animals huddled there
to sleep. However, for the last five days, the stable oozed an
attractive and mysterious warmth. On this fifth night, a bonfire flamed
at the entrance of the cave. The baker, having left his dough ready to
bake before next dawn, tended the fire without being surprised at doing
so. Two shepherds pulled up heavy logs to sit upon near the bonfire,
while another took out cheese from his pouch. From the stable came a man
with thankfulness in his eyes, bringing milk and honey, which he gave to
the baker. Then he returned to the stable to come out once again with
two simple wooden stools. As he came out, he smiled at the innkeeper's
wife whom, after contributing a jar of wine to the small banquet, walked
into the cave. This woman, a solid and knowledgeable midwife, felt her
pulse begin to race - it had for the last few nights - as she went to
the deepest part of the stable.
There, standing while she cradled her babe in her arms, was
Joseph's young wife. A woman like any other, like many whom the midwife
had accompanied after giving birth. However and surprisingly, the
midwife somehow felt that it was she herself who was being accompanied.
Setting a timid hand - strong, hard-working hand, why now timid? - on
Mary's arm, the midwife invited the young mother to come out and walked
beside her to the bonfire. Once there, she helped her to sit down on one
of the stools, the one that had been covered by a sheepskin. The baby
fussed and the midwife helped Mary to put him to the breast with the
experience born of many years of practice. After, she watched with deep
emotion as the young mother watched her child nurse.
The baker's wife arrived with a basket full of loaves, and
three farmers and their wives came with dates and olive oil. And there
dined such a company: the baker and his wife, the midwife, the three
farmers and their wives, and the shepherds, all around the carpenter and
his young wife and her suckling child. And with the bread and wine, the
olive oil, the milk and the honey, the dates and the cheese around the
bonfire they talked of things like old friends, all beheld by the
silent, attractive and welcoming look of the young mother. When they
finished eating, the shepherds brought out their wood and bone flutes
and began to play.
The child, asleep, slowly released the breast with that
unconscious smile of the very sated, very young babes. A drop of milk
escaped from his smile.
Milk of Mother from mouth of Child rolling down divine cheek
and falling on humble ground...
...and where the drop touched the earth, a small seed appeared.
Over the next years, the stable became a place of welcome to
any traveller in need passing through Bethlehem. The baker and his wife,
the midwife, the three farmers and their wives, and a few shepherds took
turns in caring for those who stayed. And from the seed that had
appeared grew a tree, a tree not specially beautiful, a normal tree;
however, it protected the entrance to the cave from cold or from heat.
Once a year the baker and his wife, the midwife, the three
farmers and their wives, and the shepherds came together to remember the
Event they had shared in. It was, precisely, on the one and only day of
the year in which the tree bloomed. Because once a year that tree,
though apparently not a special tree, was covered in flowers; flowers
white as mother's milk and pure as a baby's smile. Precisely five days
after Christmas. C.K. Querol
--
Dra. Carmela Baeza, IBCLC
Lactancia Materna
Centro de Atención a la Familia "Raíces"
C/Bravo Murillo 221, 2ºA
28020 Madrid
Tel 91 571 1282
www.centroraices.com
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