POEM.

They held my hand as I counted,
A gentle care for my past trauma.
And as the numbness swept down,
Up rushed a rising nausea.

POEM.

One for the c-section mamas this caesarean awareness month.

There’s a mark, red and angry,
Stretched tight across my skin.
And as the weeks and months go by,
It fades to paper thin.

POEM.

A poem I wrote to the older woman who sat with me when my youngest was in hospital earlier this year.

It’s a special kind of love mum’s have
The older woman watching on said.
And I thought, I hope to be her one day,
When grey hairs crown my head.

POEM.

A process of becoming,
Of breaking the mold of who you are.
Once one free spirt flying,
Now a vessel for a speck of star.

POEM

First feeds with milky soft head nuzzling in.
And a small hand curled tight around my thumb.
Bellies touching, the joy of skin to skin.
Perfect first dance and two once more as one.

POEM.

You’ve lost track of the time
And you’ve lost count of the days.
Your eyes are tired, body sore,
I promise it won’t always be this way.

MUSINGS.

I can’t do this. I wept it. A guttural sob as tears streamed down my face.