Poem of the Finished Mama

I’m SO done.
And somehow I can’t get enough of it all.
Every day I wake up wondering if this will be the last day
I ever carry a child.

I’ve worn this dress once a week for the last month
Because nothing is comfortable anymore
And let’s be honest, no one pays attention on Zoom.
Everything aches
And I nap 15 times a day
And I don’t fit properly in the shower.
I’m weary of housing this little, rambunctious life.

At the same time, I can’t get over the lastness of it all.
Last rhythmic hiccups.
Last bump pictures.
Last tiny feet tracing secret messages on my left side belly.

Can I burn these memories securely in my mind?

Will all the things I’ve learned and studied and applied in this season
be doomed to slowly fade with age?

Does wisdom hang onto our formative moments for later recall
or is everything given then gone, for such a time as this?

How do you capture a pregnancy,
a graduation,
a first kiss,
a last breath?

For we are dust
Stardust 💫
Leaving a trail behind
As we blaze into eternity.