April is flying by! Soon it will be May and I will be the mother of a four year old!

And I almost forgot today's poem. D'oh!

Mother's Day (a prose poem)

You were born on Mother's Day and it seemed for about twelve long hours I was scared that pain would be my only gift but then that last push and there you were and suddenly you were the gift, just as you'd been all along, only wrapped up in contractions so intense I wanted to implode. And I still needed to pee, that intense overwhelming must pee now feeling that just would not be satisfied until after the placenta came and the pressure was relieved. But I remember the smell of you, your dark hair that your daddy knew would be blond (and after it fell out it was). Your eyes, so blue then. Parts change, but the you of you is the same today as it was on that original Mother's Day, your breath entering your lungs and filling you up with all the neshama* you could ever need.

* A certain type of soul, connected to the (first) breath, in Hebrew.