you were just an idea -
a thing I planned
to do down the road before I
grew too old.

I loved you when
we were trying. And every month
crying when all the tests came back
negative. And my stomach lay flat
as a door mat.

I loved you when
you were only a seed
floating in midstream. And I
couldn’t wait for the due date. As
I saw two pink lines I screamed
no more drinking wine!

I loved you when
you played kickball
in my stomach. And as I grew
so fat I couldn’t see my feet
or tie my shoes. And then the doctor
said paint the room blue!

I loved you when
you pushed that big head
out into this world! And as I saw
those red chubby cheeks, so breathless
I couldn’t speak.

I loved you when
you were up all night. And couldn’t
sleep without the lights on. And in the early
morn, I looked like a creature from
Dawn of the Dead.

I loved you when
you wobbled like a weeble
and drooled like a rabid fox. And
pulled off both socks only to
stuff them in that tiny mouth. And I
pulled them out.

I loved you when
you called me mama. And my
tired legs couldn’t chase you
as you ran sprinting
like a cheetah/turning faster than
an ameba.

I loved you when
you shot past my shoulders. And as
you grew older I loved you even
more. And I’d miss you and worry
when you were at school or out with friends
and as you lay sick in bed
with a high temperature. And that
hasn't stopped/the love and worrying.
It's part of this thing called mothering.