I am still here. Mothering, tending, reminding myself to savor this brief moment, this fragile window of need. She requires the most and is near me at all times. Meanwhile, the girls continue to adjust. We are getting used to the chaos – the circus we bring on public outings. 3+ has an element of taboo. I pull from Love’s patience, Ami’s maternalness, little M’s humor, and her need for me. This is who i am during maternity leave, during a period when I stepped into 37.
My old shell heals and morphs back into shape. I squeeze into my old clothes and snap the waist button. They fit. It’s the mother’s milk…and the holding, bouncing, and swaying to music that comforts her. She cries a lot when she’s not in my arms.
We have hens now, free ranging in the backyard. They named my hen, a young plymouth rock, heño peño.
The rose bush bloomed.
It rained yesterday.
We’re nearing the next chapter.
I will return to work soon, and she’ll be placed in Love’s hands.
The girls will teach her the way of the she-tribe. He will teach her the ABCs.
When she calls for me, I will be far away. The milk will drop like tiny white tear drops.
The heart, the breasts, they remember this, all of this.
(pictures of her coming soon.)