Eating, and growing, and breathing
Forty weeks you spent inside me.
Even after you were out
it was as if you were still inside me
Yes, I was a baby-wearing, breastfeeding,
the crunchiest of mommies.
Alone time was a vague concept
that occasionally manifested
only when you were asleep.
I slept when you slept
I showered when you slept
I worked when you slept
I walked when you slept
And then came the driving
Driving you here, there
I had almost forgotten that you were separate.
Today your second broken bone is a reminder
That we are separate.
I wish we could exchange hurt and health
My limb for yours, like Babar did.
I would if I could.
An ode to mothers who deal with
when their children have to fight
even more dangerous monsters than a broken bone.