day two poem

we brought you home from the hospital on your second day of life. 

i sat in the gliding chair in my room with you cradled like a football in my lap;

your dad read a new book to your sister on the bed next to us.

i complained that i didn’t understand 

how to position the pillow to help you latch my breast to eat 

in a way that didn’t hurt either of us.

your sister watched.

as dad got up to offer me help,

interrupting the story mid-sentence,

mildly abandoning her for the first of many times

as we learned to adapt to life with multiple children.

he went downstairs, at my request,

to find the footstool that came with the chair.

i looked at your sister,

hoping she would understand my face looking at her

with a sense of exhaustion and defeat.

i worried her mood would crumble like mine,

but she wore a gentle curiosity and

spoke to my body language with a delicate voice.

“mom” she consoled, 

“you’re doing a great job taking care of your kids.”

in that moment, 

i realized for the first time that i had kids. 

the gift of kids.

my body softened in amazement as i pondered her compliment.

she cupped her small hands, 

now giant compared to yours, 

around her mouth and offered encouragement

 in the form of “woohoo! cheers for mom!”

while footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs

and a tear let itself glide down my cheek.

 

this was the first of many times

my kids would take care of me

when i couldn’t quite take care of them.