Baby blues

A poem for my first Mother's Day

Those first two and a half weeks of life, my son could not see much more than vague, fuzzy shapes and gray and white tones.

Those first two and a half weeks of motherhood, I could not see how I would ever stop crying.

Now, I want to bottle up my son’s marble blue eyes.

I want to set the bottle on the window sill. I want the sunlight to refract through it and turn the entire room oceanic. I want to kiss his baby doll mouth and hear what he has to say about dinosaurs and keep figuring things out together. I want my nipples to refresh but more so I want to nourish him forever.

I want to nourish each other forever.