the (s)mother sphere
First
I gave you my body
Willingly
Readily
Proudly.
Naively.
Take my womb.
What do you need to thrive?
I will eat it. Drink it.
Not drink it. Not smell it. Not think about it,
even,
ever.
I can’t breathe
By the time I reach the top of the stairs
Because you need my
Diaphragm, too, I guess
So, well, take it.
My organs, fuck them
Push them over.
Shove them aside.
Squeeze my bladder
Til I pee myself every time I sneeze.
No problemo.
It’s all yours.
Then
You took my mind.
Am I doing this right?
Am I drinking enough water for you?
You want me to nap again?
And then be up at 3am with insomnia until daylight?
I guess so.
Do you like how I’m sitting on this birthing ball?
Or are you gonna creep into a crappy birthing position?
Is this the type of music you like?
Are you gonna come out gently if I play it
Or tear my insides apart?
People only ask about you now. What day you’re coming. If you’re kicking. Where I’m birthing.
I lie about a few of these things, but
It doesnt matter cause no one really remembers Me
without You anyways.
Finally
You come.
And you come for
My spirit.
Your joy becomes
My joy.
Very cool, yes.
I love watching you crawl and walk and babble
And (eat) throw avocado all over our entire kitchen.
You’ve lit up my world.
I see a new crayon set
And I’m giddy
For you.
Oh. My. Gosh.
bubbles. yes.
Play doh. Every day.
Your tooth finally coming through
Is all I f*cking want for my birthday.
Your block castles,
9 hour nights,
First, hardly perceptible pronunciation
Of “dog”
That sounds like a lame “duh” to anyone else but me
Is
Magnificent.
& shit in the potty-
THIS
Is my joy.
But.
It’s Spring.
You are 3. And you are 1.
My nipples are mine again.
My mind is still a mess
but its not measuring
your every milestone.
And I just got back from a yoga studio
Saturated with sage
(Instead of mom rage)
And I had
a long, silent
uninterrupted
savasana.
Oh. Sweet. Silent. Savasana.
So now
For what feels like the first time
Since early 2018
When you first confiscated my cervix
I’m reclaiming what’s mine.
My body is as tight in all the wrong places
and loose and weak as it’s ever been.
My mind has mostly forgotten how to speak intellectually to adults
And my spirit barely knows what brings it joy at all.
But.
All of a sudden
I’m feeling myself…
Like, literally putting my hands to my body
In the shower
To scrub,
But also to stretch.
And to surrender.
And to talk sweetly
To my sore feet.
To serenade my
Marsupial-like stomach
And my,
Well, “new boobs”…
just not the kind you see in magazines.
This body is the least “should have”
and “should be”
it’s ever been
And I’m the most comfortable
And confident
In it
As I’ve ever been.
Oh man
This spring
I’m so f*cking reclaiming.
I’m re-membering
This self.
And taking these small steps
To be seen again
As Me.
“But, are you, though?”
Says mama-mind to Me.
F*ck.
This is spring
In the (s)mother sphere.
——-
Revisiting old stories. In the light of today.
Sometimes, I forget that I’ve grown. When I read old writings of mine, I can bring those sentiments and sensations back into my body. And it feels good and encouraging to know that today feels different. Those sensations no longer engulf me. Despite feeling, back then, that I’d feel that way forever.
This mind and these feelings tell us things. Listen.
They won’t stay forever.
You, your essence, remains.