invisible
Unseen by the world
but as real and loved
as a child can be
dear mother,
you’re never alone
I’m right beside you
holding your hand
You were supposed to be born today
but life had other plans
and so you sit atop
the pillowy white clouds
looking down on a world you never joined
I don’t know when you died
when your heart stopped beating inside of me
but I do remember how my heart stopped
upon seeing the blood
and while I never got to hold you in my arms
know that I hold you in my soul
where you float
safe and loved
for eternity
When night is at its darkest
I try to imagine your face
my heart forlorn
missing someone
I’ve never met
You’re still my child, angel
even though you’ll never wear diapers
or ride a bike
You’re still my child
even without a first day of school
or a last day of camp
I hear the whisper of your name
on windy fall afternoons
And feel your spirit in the blue butterflies
that rest on my palm
We must live on opposite sides of the veil
for a little while
Wait for me, angel
I won’t be long
On those long
laundry-filled
runny-nose
why-are-you-crying-now
days that after fourteen hours
refuse to melt into night
if I listen closely enough
I can hear my great-great-great-grandmothers
chanting my name.
Dear Mother,
While you stand at the stove stirring
bright orange macaroni and cheese from the box
the weight of the world on your chest
the weight of your home on your shoulders
and the weight of each of your children’s futures,
rocky paths you can’t pave,
on your heart
listen
Inside your soul you will hear angels singing songs
as they drop pale pink flower petals atop your head
These angels exist just for mothers
and all of you have them
Sometimes they gently blow warm rose-scented wind on our necks
three minutes before the baby wakes up
Sometimes they scream into our minds
when the toddler is standing on the back of the couch again
uncoordinated superhero
But most of the time they’re just there for you
replenishing
brushing your hair gently
singing lullabies into your empty wells
rocking your tired valleys to sleep
These angels are charged with mothering the mothers
nursing our spirits as we nurse the world entire
MADNESS
the paradox of motherhood
is waiting for bedtime
with the anticipation of a child
longing for Christmas morning
and then
after little eyes have long closed
lying on the couch
smiling at photos of them
on your phone
When I’m with them
I dream of peace
crave silence
fantasize about beaches
fruity frozen drinks
the only sound being
the sea lapping frothily against the sand
But only a few hours into my
solitude
my heart begins rumbling its hunger
and my body aches
to have their small bodies against mine
feel my lips on their buttery cheeks
What kind of madness is this
Nobody tells you
that you will drown in motherhood
smiling and crying
as you sink
into its lovely depths
eternal baptism
I wish I was your grandmother
rather than your mother
soak you up without the angst
eat you up without the indigestion
love you without the fear
enjoy your childhood
without the second-guessing
and the guilt
already having grown and settled
into the silver-haired woman whose nerves
have long since calmed
There are two mothers inside of me.
One wears flowing skirts
made of pressed flowers and
sewn with spiderweb thread.
Her words are honey soaked
and her arms never tire of holding
babies against her breast.
She breathes in each moment
as if smelling freshly baked
coffee cake
and smiles real smiles.
The second mother wears only
yesterday’s pajamas
her skin, hair, and heart are dry
parched
her mind throbs with restless
boredom
as each moment falls on her
like tiny bombs of redundant domesticity.
She stares at her keys
waiting for the moment she can grab them
and run out the door
alone.
It’s tempting to hold each moment
up to the sun
examining it for flaws
glaring imperfections
noticing how it fails to meet our expectations
for what it should be, could have been
but what if you put it down
let it wash over you
accept it as yours
make your peace
with the present
acknowledging that it doesn’t have to be
perfect
to be
beautiful
As exhausted as I am
overwhelmed
I know these are the best days
The ones I’ll daydream about one day
Wishing there was a way to go back
even if just for an hour
It’s tiresome feigning
interest in yet another
hastily scribbled dog or car
until I consider
that one day
without notice
I won’t be the first person
he wants to show things to
Some days I feel like the poison
corroding everything I touch
a toxic cloud
Other days I’m the antidote
baking, hugging, being the
mother I want to be
All the while knowing
they deserve so much better
I can get so lost
in the comparison
my thirsty eyes
drinking up the crafted images
we create to celebrate motherhood
and to pretend it’s all going
according to plan
that I forget
that it was meant
to be messy
it was meant to hurt
because nothing this beautiful
is ever easy
MOTHERHOOD IS THE ONLY TIME
YOU'RE EXPECTED TO LOOK GOOD
WHILE DROWNING
CAMERA ROLL
At the end of the night
when the house is asleep
I scroll through my photos
How do snapshots stir such pining
for moments that have drifted skyward
like cotton-topped dandelion seeds
by life’s steady winds?
Moments I fought to exist in
are now stripped of angst
and repainted with the brush of
simple romance and innocence
If only my eyes were cameras
Sometimes I don’t know if I’m going to survive
all of this giving taking asking crying whining
Then they’ll look at me
smiling the goofy smile of children
eyes dancing mischievously
cheeks plump off a steady diet of my irritation
ready to burst into the carefree giggles
of a human being who’s never paid taxes
In those moments, I can’t help but laugh
He said “Mommy”
too many times
and I nearly snapped
until I realized that
one day
without notice
he’ll exchange it for
“Mom”
So until then,
Mommy’s here
the magic of motherhood
is how it manages to
drain and fill you
at once
and always when you need it
the most
dear mother,
you don’t have to enjoy every moment
life isn’t an ice cream cone
it’s a buffet
and some of the dishes
are cold
RAISING
SOME DAYS I CAN’T BELIEVE
THEY’RE LETTING ME RAISE HUMANS
MOTHERHOOD HAS A WAY OF TAKING ALL OF YOUR
"I'LL NEVERS" AND TURNING THEM INTO
"WHATEVER WORKS."
dear mother,
trust your gut
your instincts know
what your mind can’t explain
The triumph of motherhood cannot be found
in the quest for perfection
It exists solely in the daily decision to—
in the face of fatigue
in the reality that it is not yet dawn
in the knowledge that more mistakes
will be made—
show up
What I’m most afraid of
is failing these children
whose only crime
was choosing me
as their mother
Every day I have the choice
to make heaven or hell
under this roof
for these angels
And my chest tightens
under the weight of the responsibility
Until I remember
that to them
heaven is French toast
we don’t have children
children have us
our hearts bound tightly within their fingers
our dreams painted with their futures
our lives, planets orbiting their hopeful suns
When the nurse yelled “Push!”
I didn’t realize I’d have to do it forever
Push them to take those first steps
Push them to study for that test
Push them to try their best
“How long did you push for?” another mother asks me
I’ll let you know when I stop
People seem ordinary
until you consider
that everyone was once a newborn
whose face someone stared into
when they were just seconds old
someone carried them within
felt their soft kicks in the night
someone held a bottle to their lips
and watched them take hungry gulps
so while people are common
they are anything but ordinary
because in this world full of fear
hatred
scarcity
someone loved them enough
to make sure they survived
dear mother,
you get to decide
because they’re your children
Children weren’t designed to be
good listeners
because God knows
adults lie
Instead they were made
watchers
expert imitators
so that we can see our truest selves
through the innocent performances
of these small
savage
mimes
I pray they don’t notice
my hands shaking
eyes bloated
two sunken ships
from a night of crying
Watch your cartoons
Too shrill
Mommy’s fine
Everything’s fine
We can talk to our children about love
explain the intricacies of respect
caution them against relationships
that damage the softest parts of their hearts
but in the end
their greatest teacher
will be what we chose to endure
and why
The difference between
discipline and abuse
is that with the former
the child may hate you
for a short while
but with the latter
they hate themselves
indefinitely
Whatever soul pains
we as parents do not attempt to heal
we pass on to our children
as an inheritance
bitterness in wicker baskets
but the ones we face
hold up to the sun
sober and afraid
are transformed
by courage and truth
into
legacies
You have my eyes
I pray you don’t have my brain
and won’t spend a lifetime
battling invisible armies
that march in endless formation
strong relentless soldiers
trained by your secrets
fed a steady diet of your hope
You have my eyes
please let that be all
every once and again
it becomes necessary to
pull out a bucket of soapy water
and a wood-backed bristle
and scrub your childhood
letting the foam run over the memories
wet forgiveness
until it’s clean enough
for your children to eat off of
I’ve learned that the best parents
aren’t the ones who
know how to be right
the best ones
are the ones
who know how to
apologize
dear mother,
you’re new to this
&n
bsp; but
*whispers*
we all are
if my children grow up to be
nothing but brave and kind
I will consider them a smashing success
because while beauty and wealth are often coveted
and intelligence respected
most of the atrocities in this world
could have been prevented
if more people were simply
brave and kind
Everyone tells you about
The heart-bursting love
Whose explosion
Rains devotions of shrapnel
Forever embedded in your being
For this little baby
But the books don’t talk about the guilt
For bringing this beautiful child into a world so broken
A world so evil
A world so painful
What have I done
I want my children to
take it for granted
as long as they can
for the minute they understand
the value of it all
means the bubble
of safety and love
I have constructed
has popped
I know enough about
the world now
that I question my decision
to bring children into it
But on those days
when the news makes me cry
I look at my baby and hope
that even if it’s just for one person
they’ll make it a better place
I didn’t pray much before having children
But I find myself in the morning asking