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First time mums

Mother

The house is quiet.
Finally, a moment to myself.
I sit on the couch, expressing milk for his next feed.
Time circles my mind.
Do I have enough time to write this?
Should I sleep instead?
It’s getting late.
I should be grateful.
I should be present.
I should… I should.
The guilt.
The intrusive thoughts.
The disconnection from self.
The robotic washing of bottles, clothes, and dishes.
Then the question returns.
Do I have enough time for me?
What me?
Who am I?
Where am I?
I miss her.
I miss me.
Who have I become?
I have become a mother.
I am everything to this little human who will one day call me mum.
His life depends on me with every waking moment.
I give.
And I give.
Then he smiles.
And suddenly I see him
the little human I have nourished with tired eyes,
with time,
with love stretched beyond capacity.
Sometimes I leave to rest.
To breathe.
But even then my mind returns home.
I should be there.
I should be caring for my baby.
Is this normal?
Am I normal?
I feel myself unbecoming the woman I once knew so well.
They say this time is sacred.
And it is.
But it goes fast.
Maybe because we are not fully here in these early days.
We are surviving.
Living on autopilot.
Days blur together.
Until suddenly he shows me something new —
a smile,
a look,
a tiny trick he has learned.
And that moment is priceless.
His beautiful smile.
His big, beautiful eyes.
He is beginning his life
as I share mine
to keep him thriving.
A sacred sacrifice.
A whirlwind.
A shift in reality.
Who am I?
I am mother.