I will miss these mornings
cradling you to my chest
stroking baby hair while you suck
the soft sounds
dreams meeting morning
grunts and gulps
gratitude and greed
a baby’s breakfasting
the curve of my arm caressing your cheek
as I hold you close
This morning
as if my milk can speak my mind
a telegraph to the tongue
as if you can taste the end
you stop
look up at me
big brown baby eyes say
it is over
I pick you up
your legs stand on my lap
you press your face against mine
cheek to cheek
you hug my head
weaving your baby fingers into the back of my braid
now we see out together,
eyes aligned
faces side by side
And I sense
our intimacy
is only beginning.
1 response so far ↓
1 Steven Noels // Sep 22, 2003 at 6:07 am
Being ‘only a father’ of three (us, poor male human beings cannot fathom what pregnancy and nursing is all about), your little poem sent shivers through my spine. I read Ted for ‘A-patch-y’ reasons, but am very glad I found your blog through his. The warmth and strength of your relationship, and the energy you find in your kids, radiate through all of your postings, and brings a knowing and understanding smile to my lips when I find a new post of yours in my feed aggregator. Keep up the fine work, Julie. For us, we’re only months past the baby period, with our little daughter heading towards 17 months. I can assure you that the amazement – of seeing your offspring grow and blossom – lasts, even when the leaps you go through become smaller – at first sight. Cheers!