Who Am I Now That I Have Become A Mother?

I am tears in the middle of the night, forgotten lunch boxes, mismatched socks.

I am arbiter, doctor, confidant, chef, secretary, peacekeeper, chauffeur. 

I am insider outsider. Alone and never alone. 

I am wise and full of doubt. Powerless and the place where the buck stops. 

I am wide lap and smoothed hair and dried tears. 

I am endurance past imagining, exhaustion beyond sleeping, overwhelm past sanity. 

I am paralyzed and powerful. 

I am destroyed and made new and made new and made new. 

I am love beyond words and time and reason and the stars. 

I am hope and fear and laughter and snot and blood and missing sneakers found in the laundry basket. 

I am clean up the playroom and eat your vegetables and remember your water bottle and push in your chair. 

I am the unlocked door when you run away from home again. 

I am buffeted and unwavering, fearless and terrified, measuring short and measuring short and measuring short. 

I am Legos and lullabies and late night past your bedtime snuggles. 

I am language and rhythm and flow and joy. 

I am the found voice, free after years of silence. 

I am gatekeeper, guide, and guardian. 

I am Twinkle Twinkle and You Are My Sunshine and Zippity Do Dah. 

I am everything and nothing at all. 

I am poems written on my phone in the dark without my glasses on. 

I am open ears, open eyes, open arms. 

You are my child, my teacher, my spirituality, my practice, my heart. I am your mother.