My baby and her baby

During those bleary nights
with the wailing
and the impenetrable sour milk smell
and the dozens of dirtied blankets
and the frantic pacing
and the helpless tears
and the exhausted arguing
and the sore nipples
and the brief consideration of using duct tape in a variety of off-label ways
I never thought of the beautiful Sunday afternoon I might spend
teaching endless swaddling lessons
to a patient little girl who likes to fiercely claim
she is now too old for dolls 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s