They say it’s hard,

They say you can’t sleep,

They say just wait,

It gets worse.

But three weeks down,

Eighteen years and then some to go,

And I can’t help

But to picture your future.

Who you become

Based on who I’ve taught you to be

And who you’ve taught me to become.

The strength I’ve gained

Just to be your mom.

The wisdom I’ve learned

In order to teach your growing mind.

The milk that produces through me

To your hungry lips.

And the pain I endured

To see you into this world.

You’re the light to my life,

And though they may say

It will get harder,

I simply can’t wait,

For you to give me trouble.

Trouble that we all put

Our own dearest mothers through.

Trouble that follows us as mothers,

For a mothers duty

Is never finished.

Oh they say we have you for 18 years.

But does it stop there?

You will grow into a women,

Live in your own place,

Find a man

Who treats you like a queen,

You’ll make a family,

All your own.

And I’ll be at your doorstep

Waiting as a grandmother then.

And you’re only three weeks old.

Oh how I can’t wait

For my sleepless nights

And for my days to grow tiring.

For the fun has only begun.

For I was told I couldn’t conceive

And yet you breath,

Here in my arms.

They could be right.

Oh but they could be wrong.

I will cherish every set back we have

And I will accept every challenge

And be the mom

I didn’t know my body would let me be.

11-10-19