Rainfall Record

Since October it rained 47 inches here

(in the last 14 days my eyes have rained more).

 

On day 9 it was a middle of the night collapse:

full sobs and remorse.

I loathed our comfy glider, the room

we’d created for you.

It had become an isolation tank

where we tortured each other

with multiple attempts at painful latches.

 

On day 15 it was midmorning

and I listened, breath held, at the bottom

of the stairs while he settled in to that glider

and fed you.

There were no screams.

 

I covered my mouth and sprinted

downstairs, relief thundering through me.

But it was laced

with droplets of grief over the released connection

between you and I.

 

The weather has cleared recently

(my eyes are getting there…I think).

In a lot of ways, this isn’t easier

but the sum of us

is greater.

 

And that’s all that matters.

To O

You are already better than me –

 

More adaptable,

flowing with the constant change of

swaddles, sleep sacks, breast, bottle.

 

More tolerant,

accepting my fumbling attempts

as I learn to parent you.

 

More trusting,

gazing at me with those navy blue

eyes as I try to offer you comfort.

 

You are already better than me.

 

And that is my constant hope.

My First Steps

Halfway down Sylvan and I spy

the me from weeks before –

full waddle, a pause to almost a shuffle

as a contraction grips my lower back.

My family is a duck trail ahead of me,

our daily trek from their Airbnb to our place.

The walk, five minutes, usually takes us fifteen.

 

But now I am (for the first time since August)

Singular.

This time I pause

from the weight of the moment.

No family. No bulging belly.

 

I drink in sunshine,

blind myself on the cotton candy sky.

Inside I am traveling a tightrope of tumultuous emotions,

but on this gravely slab of concrete,

for a mere five seconds, I just am

Me.

Consistency of Motherhood

Motherhood is the Pacific,

Endless expanse of white capped swells.

My emotions ebb and flow like a tropical storm:

Is he hungry?

Should I change him?

Why is he crying?

Should I leave him in the swing?

Is he warm enough…too warm?

 

But

those are only the hiccup warnings,

the real tsunami wave breaks

in one giant salt-water mouthful:


Am I enough?