This post is one of Blogadda’s Spicy Saturday Picks!
Thanks Blogadda
I wrote this poem when I was barely more than a child myself and I had my first son …. it does not rhyme ….. but I would not change the words for anything in this world
Sometimes it’s that back pain
Those countless sleepless nights
Sometimes its sore nipples
And stitches in sensitive places
Sometimes its weight gain and dark circles
Of course its poopy diapers, smell of sour milk
It’s a dusty messy home, toys and feeders scattered
Its uncooked dinners, and a sink full of dishes
And then there are tears, sometimes the baby’s
But very often it’s me who is crying
But when I look at him, my heart bursts
I’m sure it will splatter around this messy room
I love him, more than anything, anyone
Sometimes motherhood is sheer joy
Sometimes it’s a milk soaked night shirt
Which I have to change in the middle of the night

