A crossroads,
the direction clear, but new,
the path leading
to your birth, sweet daughter.
I yearned for you,
almost lost you,
but you toughed your way
from womb to world
with a cry of victory.
I fell in love . . .
your wiggly arms like angel’s wings,
your eyes wide, eager.
You were mine,
yet
once home, euphoria waned
to weary,
diapers, rashes, colic, crying,
nipples throbbing –
these were mine as well.
In bed one night,
I startled at your cry,
for a moment . . . I had forgotten,
there is no going back,
I cannot return you
like a dress that doesn’t fit.
The responsibility stung
as I wrestled with wonder and want.
It must be the lack of sleep
the relentless body aches –
the attention you need, dear child,
will consume me . . .
but I can do this, I can –
as your eyes found mine,
I knew . . . I could do anything.