Thursday, November 25, 2010

I know of these...

Of bruised elbows and scraped knees
Of climbing furniture and trees
Of teaching them thank you and please
I don't know very much of these

Of waking up to feed a child
Of fevers high or quite mild
Of spit upon laundry piled
I don't have what to get me riled

Of little Legos scattered round
Of Shabbos naps with many sounds
Of nurses weighing newborn's pounds
I don't see what they have found

But of bruised hearts and painful shots
Of climbing walls to see top docs
Of asking please to break each lock
These I know of, more often than not

Of waking up in early morn
Of crying when each niece is born
Of maternity clothing never worn
These I have to keep me forlorn

Of clean carpets I could sell
Of Shabbos naps in dank hotels
Of pounds I've gained & nurses of hell
These I see so very well


Mystery Woman said...

May you learn those things really, really soon.

Sun inside Rain said...

I can feel the pain in this poem. Amen to MW's Bracha. And I'll add to it that someday, I'yh really soon, when you do know of all of those, you appreciate the gift of the mundane.

Devorah said...

Ouch. This poem really hurts. (It's so well written too!) Your pain is so deep.

I echo the brachos of MW and SIR.

May you soon be overwhelmed with joy,
Holding your very own girl or boy!!