When that umbilical cord stump falls out, it’s a bittersweet moment. I’m staring at the last physical remnant that says this little girl, only 8 days ago, was a part of me. She lived off me. And now she’ll never need me quite in the same way. For a brief moment I consider saving it, placing it in a keepsake box in the back of a drawer or photographing it for posterity. I pick it up, tenderly, and decide its fate.
Then I realize I’m looking at this bloody brown clotted stump of nastiness. Ew.
Garbage for you.
If I need a reminder, I’ll just look at her belly button.