So I’m not the best mommyblogger out there. It’s okay. I don’t make money on it and I never will. It’s been a long time since I posted, which seems to be kind of how I do things. I’m hoping to write my birth story soon, before it fades any further from my memory. Parts of it are etched there forever but other parts are already foggy.

Last night I wrote a poem during our 3am nursing session. It still needs some polishing. So instead, here’s a poem I wrote on 6/9/2013, when my daughter was just 2.5 weeks old. At the time we were still struggling with breastfeeding, and sleeping on the couch with her on my chest. Those nights were hard and my whole body was hurting from motherhood, but even then my heart was expanding like the big bang had gone off inside me. There’s no other way to hold on to so much love as I have now other than to have my whole world shift and churn and grow to accommodate it. I was terrified every moment for this fragile new life I held in my arms 24 hours a day. I digress. To the (possibly mediocre, I could never judge my own writing) poetry with bad spacing because I can’t figure out how to have a single carriage return:


I hope I never forget this.
The smell of her
with her heavy head pillowed
on one aching breast
and her milksweet warmth pressing
against me in sleep.


Her breath is uneven.
Her so-small fingertips wriggle
unconsciously against my skin and
clutch the edges of our blanket.


I should be sleeping like her
but I am so filled with wonder
at her
and all she was is will be.


I want to frame this moment,
hold it fresh in my mind forever.
I am sleeping with the tiniest perfection.
And I cherish her.