the getting up is just preparation for what is to come.
Staring endlessly into the new and innocent eyes of the one you love, bonding.
Then the crying, eating, needing. Your body is not your own for a while; it's up for grabs.
A steady stream of diapers, meals, baths, the days a blur. Deep exhaustion.
You think it will be like this forever. Rubber duck, rubber ball, rubber boots. Crawl, stand, walk, talk.
They finally go to the bathroom on their own, and you clap and cheer, as if they have won gold, and they have, too! Silly little things you do.
Before you know it, the years fly by.
You try to get them to share, or stick up for themselves, stop fighting, keep trying.
Tricycle, bicycle, scrapes and wounds. Laughing and crying.
Reading and teaching. Praying and loving. Homework, buses, sports, cheering.
Christmas trees and report cards. Birthday parties.
Hormones that rage, slamming doors, coming of age.
In the blink of an eye, they drive, date. You worry, pray. Stay up late.
You want them to find their gifts, respect themselves, stay safe.
Find their way. The years fly by. Before you know it, they graduate,
and dare to leave. On their own. Fledgling. Empty nest.
It doesn't matter how old they get. You still worry, pray, fret.
Because they get hurt, disappointed, brokenhearted, married, give birth.
All the while, sleepless nights.
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