32 Weeks

There’s something about the word

Mother

In any language

It utters almost sacred

I can remember

The first time

Both my girls

Said that word

And really meant it

It still rouses me from sleep

Or from myself

I think sometimes

It would drag me from death

I can remember

The last time

I said it

To my Mother

The last time she heard me say it

In the quiet of her room

She was in a coma


We were never supposed to see her eyes open again

I sat on the foot of her bed

Laid my hand

On her wasted legs

The same legs

I wrapped my arms around as a child

I said her name

“Mom, It’s Kathryn…”

Against all reason

She sat up

Bright eyed

Looked at me

Like all Mothers

Look at their daughters and said

“Yes baby”

I won’t type what we said

Before she went back to sleep

In her cavernous absence

I have been Mothered by many

I have learned lessons

I longed for her to teach me

Caught her wicked grin

In tiny faces

Seen her faults

Sworn to never be mine

Raise themselves up around me

To be hacked through


Some gathered

Some burned

Some recognized as virtue

Her refusal to take life

Without a smile

Or lying down

Or on anyone else’s terms

Has played it’s unorthodox path

Out before my feet

When I held my babies

I physically ached to see her

Appear through the hospital door

To see her stare down in adoration

On what My Love and I

Had made

For her to laugh at his jokes

See all his wonders

Understand my choices

Help me clean out my closets

To raise her eyebrows

When I’m ridiculous

As I try to fathom

The imprint she left on my life

It seems immeasurable

Like a depth of the sea

Never explored

The weight of that mantle

Is so heavy some days

The majestic mantle of Motherhood

Can stifle and elevate

Drain and replenish

Undo and create

My children

Will mirror me

The way I sometimes

Reflect my own Mother

Whether they like it or not

They will learn to look at life

As I do

To get up

Or stay down

To shrink

Or to shine

To be bested by fear

Or to give it another go

They will wrap their arms

Around my legs

For strength

For guidance

For remembrance

Bringing life into this world

Or attempting it

Is not for the faint of heart

It’s for all of your heart

Every last blood soaked beat

I’m no perfect parent

Neither was she

Still

She was

Always there

Whenever I said her name

Even at the doors of death

She wore the mantle

When the weight of it

Seemed to crush her

As this pregnancy

Draws near it’s conclusion

I find myself

Asking her what she would do

Hearing her laugh

Missing her seemingly endless Joy

Salted with sarcasm

And slipping my arms

Further down the sleeves of a garment

She wove for me

Everyday of my life

When my girls say Mommy

I say

“Yes baby”