Dear Mother Page 4

whoever gave the swallows their morning song

  to watch my babies

  May they be invisible to those with bad intentions

  and may their faces fall gently

  on the eyes and hearts of those

  entrusted to care for them

  IT’S TAKEN MANY YEARS

  BUT I THINK I FINALLY LOVE YOU ENOUGH

  TO LET YOU BE YOU

  my wish for you

  is that one day

  you see yourself

  the way I see you

  the world doesn’t deserve you, child

  but it needs you

  shine

  burn it down

  build something better

  dear mother,

  our daughters watch us

  to see what they’ll be expected to be

  and our sons watch us

  to see what they’ll be able to get away with

  I didn’t realize how dangerous it is

  to be a woman

  until watching my girl grow into one

  filled me with equal parts pride

  and fear

  Over my dead body

  will my son

  become a man

  who hurts women

  I believe these boys

  will be better men

  because for the first time

  we’re allowing them to cry

  “You can get it yourself”

  I tell my son

  and in the distant future

  I hear his spouse whisper,

  “Thank you.”

  That moment when your child

  Turns a certain way

  And you get a glimpse

  Of the adult version of their face

  The stillness of a house

  pregnant with sleeping children

  is like a garden

  after a rainstorm has drenched every

  last inch

  will they remember all the yelling?

  or the morning hugs and kisses?

  the s’mores on camping trips?

  or the massive stack of dishes?

  that I was always tired?

  or the way a mud pie squishes?

  take the best

  discard the rest

  for that is what my wish is

  APOLOGY

  Dear children,

  I had dreams of the mother I would be

  Painted in the hues of honey-glazed roasts and fluffy mashed potatoes

  Little did I know that I’d be raising myself along with you

  My most difficult child

  And so the roasts dissolved into grease-spotted bags of fast food

  delivered with a side of steaming guilt

  and instead of homemade strawberry tarts dusted with powdered sugar

  cooling on a rack in my perfect vintage kitchen

  we eat ice cream

  from plastic Tupperware

  on the couch

  Our life is not a magazine spread

  Or an Instagram dream

  But in lieu of that magic

  I give you

  Me

  Hoping that it’s enough

  In these days

  of autumn apple picking

  endless laundry

  bedtime stories

  chocolate milk afternoons at the park and

  morning cuddles, your sleepy body draped on mine like heavy fine linen,

  my hope, dear child,

  is that your cup may be full

  overflowing

  with so much golden, sweet, creamy, buttery love

  that when you’re grown

  and people’s greedy sips or careless bumps

  spill what we’ve brewed

  you’ll remember the Play-Doh at the kitchen table

  birthday cake for no reason

  frosting dotted with rainbow candies

  and your heart will grow warm

  filling your cup again

  and again

  forever

  On the bed of my imminent passing

  it will not be the gold I’ve acquired

  or applause I’ve earned

  that will bring a peaceful smile to my lips.

  My comfort

  my courage

  will come from knowing

  that it was in my heart

  that my children found rest.

  If I could give you

  the promise of a life

  without a sea of lonely tears

  I would

  If I could give you

  the promise of a life without

  the pain of heartbreak

  I would

  If I could give you the promise

  of a world of justice and peace

  I would

  But all I can give you are the

  soft kiss of my lips

  on your forehead

  whispers of comfort

  in your ears

  my arms wrapped

  tightly around your

  warm body

  in the hope that my love

  burrows itself into your

  bones

  So that no matter what may come

  you will heal

  dear mother,

  we can’t prevent all of their tears

  but we can hold them

  while those tears fall

  Some days I wish your heart

  still beat within me

  so that I could protect you

  with my skin

  my ribs

  But if mother birds can let go

  maybe so can I

  RISING

  Who is going to raise me

  while I raise them

  Motherhood transforms you into a

  Swiss Army knife

  A napkin

  A task manager

  A bag full of solutions

  A soft, flesh-covered robot

  programmed to anticipate needs

  put out fires

  Where did I go?

  IF I’D KNOWN HOW LONELY

  MOTHERHOOD WOULD BE

  I WOULD HAVE

  BROUGHT A BOOK

  What if the children we have are no accident,

  Perhaps in the heavens, our souls

  embraced in the dewy sparkling expanse

  before drawing straws

  to decide which one of us would be the parent

  and which one the child

  I hope I look

  as motherly

  as other mothers

  My motto began as “breast is best”

  then melted into “breast is good”

  then, after a river’s worth of tears

  and an afternoon with wise women who survived

  despite being burned at the stake of their own expectations,

  became “feed the child”

  my biggest fear

  is that my mind

  will always be as messy

  as my kitchen counter

  motherhood doesn’t push you

  out of your comfort zone

  it takes the comfort zone

  blends it with tequila

  and forces you to

  take shots

  dear mother,

  your life will get better

  when you are able to hand your baby

  to someone you trust

  and go away for a bit

  motherhood exp
oses

  new sources of bliss:

  grocery shopping alone

  driving alone

  bathing alone

  peeing alone

  because it’s only when solitude is rare

  that it becomes exponentially sweeter

  They say you’ve made it when the bills all get paid

  or report cards are a salad of Bs and As

  or when the marriage is just right

  or when the house is yea big, just so, sitting in the right zip code

  But I tell you now

  that no one is happier

  than the parent

  lost in the unbothered laughter

  of their child

  One day you wake up

  the same age as your parents

  when they had you

  and you realize

  they never had a chance

  I liked you on our first date

  was infatuated with you during our first kiss

  loved you on our wedding day

  But the day my heart was lost forever

  to yours

  was when I watched you hold

  our little one

  cradling the product of our devotion

  in your arms

  There is nothing that melts the heart

  like watching a man whose currency

  has always been his strength

  exhibit unabashed tenderness

  toward a child

  the best part of

  marriage with kids

  is having someone

  who’s as excited about

  the silly things they do

  as you are

  LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHILDREN

  Love under normal circumstances is difficult

  But add a baby or two

  A toddler or three

  And suddenly it feels impossible

  Two exhausted, confused hostages

  Unable to fight their captors

  Reduced to battling each other

  With sleep-deprived, clumsy tosses of

  Passive-aggressive grenades

  Both convinced that if the other would just

  Do this

  Or do that

  Everything would be better, when in fact

  All they both want

  Is to be reminded

  That they,

  In this tornado called family,

  Still exist

  Are still seen

  And are still loved

  Don’t say you love me

  if you aren’t helping

  Because love in the time of children

  begins and ends with an empty sink

  dear mother,

  you are more than a wedding photo

  more than a last name

  never let a carefully crafted image

  become the prison you die in

  She is a single mother married

  Rich in a male last name

  Ring and ceremony

  Photos to post

  Life orchestrated

  But single

  Single in the duties it takes

  To keep the house going

  Working days, scrubbing nights

  Single in the child-rearing

  Given the occasional afternoon off

  As he babysits his children

  Reluctantly

  She leaves a note

  Meal prepared

  Diapers out

  Won’t be long

  Making it easy

  She is single

  in her thoughts

  the joys and pains in her heart

  unshared in the home

  overshared online

  Because she’s a single mother, married

  Her dowry was her dreams

  And her reward is an illusion

  dear mother,

  tell me about what you’re selling

  candles, lotion, oils

  because I know a woman with her own money

  is a woman with options

  IF YOU’RE TIRED OF ME

  IMAGINE HOW TIRED OF ME

  I AM

  if I promise to blame myself

  for how I am

  will you promise

  to stop?

  dear mother,

  your partner leaving

  says more about them

  than it does about you

  As much as I want him

  need him

  I say no

  because each time

  he turns this home upside down

  I am the gate

  that cannot afford to be broken

  dear mother,

  you have permission to leave

  the situation that is hurting you

  and your babies

  Women don’t marry for a partner

  they marry to have worth

  because there’s no one society hates or

  distrusts more

  than a woman without

  a man to serve

  I don’t want to hear about

  The flowers he gives you

  The vacations you’re on

  Or the new, beautiful house you’re buying

  Not because I’m jealous

  But because I can imagine those things

  Tell me about how you learned to trust

  How you make it through life damaged

  Because that’s where my imagination

  Cannot go

  My secret desire is for

  someone

  anyone

  to love me as much as I love

  these children

  dear mother,

  you will survive this

  new, small apartment

  unfamiliar neighborhood

  no friends or family

  dwindling bank account

  cooking from freezer scraps

  scrimping on heat

  you will survive

  just like I did

  because you’re made of more than flesh and blood

  you are made of starlight

  and forged in fire

  I’M NOT BROKEN

  I'M SIMPLY AN ORANGE

  IN A BASKET OF APPLES

  TRYING MY BEST

  TO LOOK RED

  From time to time

  I find myself

  empty-armed

  yet swaying

  from side to side

  or gently bouncing

  All that time,

  was I comforting my child

  or myself?

  The unspoken work of motherhood

  is keeping one’s demons on a leash

  pulling them back

  muzzling their snarling mouths

  slick wet razor sharp teeth

  and though our arms might burn

  with the constant strain

  we hold on

  on the day they handed out brains in heaven

  I overslept

  all that was left was this one

  kind enough

  but unequipped

  not at all calibrated for earth

  full of imaginary fears

  and major malfunctions

  but it was the only one left

  so forgive me

  I overslept

  Of all the things I pass down to my children

  I hope this brain

  is not one of them

 
broken family heirloom

  dear mother,

  make a necklace out of your guilt

  put it in a pretty box

  and never wear it again

  I wish I could love

  Myself as tenderly as I do my children

  Forgive myself the way I forgive them

  Wrap myself in my own arms

  Wipe away my tears

  And whisper, “It’s okay, I love you”

  And believe it

  Be careful how you speak about

  yourself

  for your words will become

  your daughter’s mother tongue

  WHAT A SHAME IT WOULD BE

  TO HATE THE BODY

  THAT BIRTHED YOUR HEART

  When I was younger

  with a stomach that held itself in

  I felt most beautiful when I looked at my reflection

  in the mirror

  Now that I’m older

  with a tummy that remembers

  the souls who passed through it

  I feel most beautiful when I look at my reflection

  in your eyes

  If babies ruin bodies

  we must redefine perfection

  because how can ushering life into the world

  be done by

  anything less than perfect?

  Love tore through my body

  Leaving it stretched

  And dimpled

  Unfilled lakes of skin