Member-only story
Motherhood
You’ll Catch Your Breath
You will hold his blue-gray body next to yours, thinking how this little bruise-boy came from you, from your blood and bone, but also from someplace mysterious. Like a perfect snowflake that floated from a cloud.
At night, you will cradle him to your chest, rock, rock, rock the fussy child. You will rock harder as the wailing intensifies, a siren. Your body will shake as the noise of him vibrates inside you. Hollow you. Your internal screaming voice will drown out the sounds of the child and when he finally settles into sleep, you will take your turn crying, tasting the salt and burn of your own hot tears.
You will feel like a failure.
When you see the black orbs of his eyes gazing up at you, you will shine in the light of them. The eyes will send you reeling. You will love him so hard your chest aches with the fullness of it. You will catch your breath and catch your breath and catch your breath. You think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing breath, and those eyes.
Those Eyes
You hear the movement of him in his bed, the wind of a child-storm on a day when you just want stillness, sunshine, the chance to pee alone. You want to shower without one ear tuned to the door, eat without sharing morsels. Eat while the food is hot…
