This is what we do

I wrote this poem on an Amtrak train at the start of this long weekend.... watching a mother of two dish out shares of lunch from their KFC family order - making sure her kids, her husband, and her parents were fed before she fed herself - and then getting a blanket out of an overhead suitcase halfway through the trip for one of her kids.... I was thinking of how much we women serve as caretakers - either because we're wired to or because we're taught....

This is what we do

We are born to gather—

driven by urges coded in DNA strands

twisting helixes that can’t help but intertwine and pull and connect.

We enter this world with mouths open, fingers grasping,

swallowing swathes of air and light and cries and song.

We are taught to be like Mama,

gifted aprons and dolls,

mimic the swaddling of babes, tilting the bottle just so

while we bake pies of air in plastic ovens.

We are taught to be soft,

soft even as we seek to know the sharpness of our edges,

developing a toughness not unlike the smooth shellac of a crab’s shell.

Beautiful and brittle,

hiding tenderness that spills out of cracks split open.

“Your body is meant to produce life.”

Bodies that become like vessels,

equipped to create and carry other sentient beings,

sowing and harvesting,

a storehouse without end,

Keeper of all things:

sandwiches, medicine, blankets, bandages, kisses, hugs, secrets, knowledge.

We are asked - again and again - to keep it together,

to pull taut the threads,

to pick up pieces even before they fall,

to turn the wheel as if to command the sun to rise -

again and again -

from his sleepy bed.

mother's day

Seven months ago, I found out I was pregnant. Six months ago, almost to the day, I found out I had a missed miscarriage.

It suddenly dawned on me today that if the pregnancy had endured, I would be celebrating my first Mother's Day and preparing for the arrival of a little one in one month's time.

That's a lot of stuff to be feeling. The pregnancy was not planned and I confess that my husband and I were both very surprised - shocked even - when that pregnancy test quickly flashed positive. The next few weeks were filled with a lot of conversations, tears, and prayers as we wrestled with news that was both jarring and wonderful. We had finally turned the corner emotionally and accepted - even embraced - the fact that we were going to be parents sooner than we would have liked when my gynecologist could not locate a heartbeat at my check-up. The emotional rollercoaster took yet another turn.

I must confess that in many ways, I am relieved I'm not having a baby right now. I hope that doesn't sound terrible - it's just honest. I do find myself wondering what our child would have looked like. When I see a little boy with caramel skin and curly hair and almond-shaped eyes, I wonder if that's how our son (my husband was already solidly convinced it was going to be a boy) would have turned out. I wouldn't pinpoint any of my residual feelings to grief, anger, or bitterness. If anything, it's closer to curiosity.