I Am A Mother

A poem reflecting my first Mother's Day.

I am a mother.
Almost six months ago, the pain swept through my body as I labored at home. I brought you out of me without medication, without water, my throat hoarse and burning as I screamed. I blinked wet tears as you were placed in my arms, the most sacred feeling I have ever experienced.

I am a mother.
I carefully wash your hands and face and check each spot of your soft baby skin. I inhale you, your smells of mustela and milk linger on my clothes like perfume, an intoxication. I am a historian of all that is you: each sigh, each cry, each smile. I know you like the lines on my face and still, I learn more about you every day.

I am a mother. 
I wake up to hold you, to feed you; my body is pushed to exhaustion. I walk up and down the stairs with you in my arms, the baskets of laundry, the countless bottles, another trip for something that I forgot. Your cries send me into a panic: what is wrong, what can I do? My sleep is far away as I make countless lists for the days ahead.

I am a mother.
Step by step I walk slowly forward with shaky confidence. The physicality of labor, the long postpartum healing, the exhilaration of watching you grow: this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. To love and bear witness to a daughter of my own. Yes, to be a mother has made me strong; I have been given a new life. 

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