My Baby's Book

 Remember--we're not trying to understand poetry here, just experience it.

I wrote this, heavily pregnant with my second child, as part of my own surrender to the joys and struggles of motherhood. Since then, I've worn size six clothes occasionally and even had my first pedicure and manicure. I love that women all celebrate and pamper themselves in many, many ways!

I would also love it, though, if we all could celebrate the physical signs of motherhood--of any life fully lived--as much as we celebrate the physical signs of youth. Beauty comes in the shape of laugh lines, worn arthritic hands, sun spots, and thoughtful forehead crinkles, too.

Here's how all that spilled out of me six years ago.

It’s a lot of work

To get your abs back

After kids

You can do it, but

It’s a lot of work

An anorexic, boob-jobbed

Mother of three

Said to me

Well, I want them back

Of course

Three years with ‘Captain Crunch’

And a black belt

Earned me some

Pretty nice abs

Back in the day

But I see mothers

Tanned and cured (pedi and mani)

Slimmed and toned

To perfection

In size six resort wear

And high-heeled sandals

Conceding to motherhood by

Carrying a designer tote

And I wonder

Did they rent their kids?

I wouldn’t trade the

Raw knuckles and rough nails

From washing

Kids, clothes, dishes, counters,

Cars, sea shells…you name it

I wouldn’t forego

The grey-smudged eyes

From years of late night checks

And early-rising hugs

I wouldn’t give up

The forehead wrinkle

From the years of tantrums

Or the mouth lines

From all the times I smiled

To hold back tears

From feelings

Too deep for words

I will not surrender

The intimate map of

Child bearing

The silver rings of scars

Around my nipples

The expanded belly button

Or the bikini-line fat dune

I look down sometimes

And remember

Perky bosom and flat tummy

And I laugh

My body is used—

What of it?

How sad if it were not!

No plastic, no silicon

No botox for me

My baby’s book

Is written in my skin