Under God’s Gaze

my boobs ache and my nipples crack

millimeter by millimeter

I grit as they tread my parted crevices

and I allow it

bloody bleeding

I choose everyday to keep going

“it’s all temporary” they keep telling me

and as I wander off to dream my breasts fill

they weigh me down

down down down the spiral

I am a woman who is tied to her children

I am a woman who has bled on white carpets

on the white sheets and into the hands of strangers

But I tell myself this will be over

this will end

I treasure the moments like they tell me

As my tummy sags while I squat squat squat to a popular rhythm

I can only hope it lifts just one more inch

missed meals a drooping breast

my body aches it aches from sacrifice

for him for her for the good God almighty

my dreams wait and become impatient

they gnaw and cause un-lady-like outbursts

my faith in God dwindles

and it all makes less sense the more I give

and rest and give

the more I come alive

The church steps in but it’s no use

it’s too late I’ve nothing left to give

I have no care left

call me what you like

keep me in your prayers

but these bones have grown too tired of trying to get

you to understand what it’s like when you’re not around

Cookies with a Side of Fitness

Sitting here outside the gym eating Milanos. I might finish the bag before I finish this piece. It’s the double dark chocolate flavor. There’s a lesson to be learned here. But I’m sure I already know it. The class starts in ten. There’s two cookies left and I should stop eating them but I probably won’t. I should take this all more seriously I mean my health is a priority as a mother. Ok I’ll leave the last two for tomorrow.

Signed,

A hungry breastfeeding mother

Will Write For Tomorrow

Light in the distance

A globe or maybe an orb

It flits around the corners of my heart

Dashes against the edges of my mind

I look and touch and smell

What it may be like

I want things a way

Smooth oiled machines

But life isn’t so oiled

It’s jagged and rough

There are times when moments

Connect seamlessly and those I pocket

And dissect later

But mostly it takes work

and prayer

and sweat

-Saschia

Propped upright

Upright because I can breath

no other way
Propped like a doll in a pillow shop
placed snug between designer pillows
Except I’m no designer item
Just a prop
A comfort
a symbol of home
I am home between the pillows
not because of the pillows
I’m home because the stuff inside me
the stuff that fills me to the brim
it’s all I need
whether in a shop

in the arms of a loved one

or left to collect dust
doesn’t matter
I am home

Two Baby Girls

She dances while I sleep

And hiccups while I binge watch Netflix

She’s a part of me

One with me

Her sister is my closest friend and family.

She lights up my life with her smile

and makes me feel at home with her presence

Two baby girls to hug and love

to sing and dance with on the kitchen floor

I’m so proud

I’m so proud

-Saschia

Nova’s Tenth Birthday

I walk in after speeding to get my daughter’s cake which was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since Willy Wonka, and notice the tables aren’t ready. The plates are still in plastic wrap and so are the table clothes. Panic struck me like a piano falling from a third floor apartment. I hate dishing out commands, but it had to be done as quickly and gently as possible. I’m at least trying to have cake table ready because that’s the thing these days. But plastic wrap and boxes and purses keep appearing on there. My mind is everywhere trying to do everything at once. Finally got the table set and the cake table decent. Kids are every where and since it was three or four different communities some kids were left out but so goes life. I finally get the cake table decorated with gifts (which I’m super grateful for). We round up the kids and prepare for the feast to begin which is a giant subway grinder neatly divided between four tables. The tables are adorned with a fairy, blue, and gold theme. You’d think feeding the beast (beast as in a mass of children shoved into a small room) would tame it, but let me tell you I’ve created a monster. My daughter (of course) begins some chant that sounded something like “pop-the-balloon” and you should have seen the fear in the adults faces when they came together in unison. My plan was to keep it moving by lighting the candles on the cake. So I grab the cake which was pretty heavy and lug it over in front of my daughter. The chanting grows louder and there’s an air in the room (which would properly be described as fear) of what was going to happen next. And somehow it shifted, it was no longer about popping a balloon. I pull out a match and whoosh a gust of wind which I think came from the thunderous chanting, blew out the match. I now realize why people can’t light things in horror films. I search the room for my closest friend who mind you has military experience and she gives me these eyes. They were big and I gave her the eyes like Save me. And I waved the matches as if they were a white flag. She (eventually) came to my side and we lit the candles together and the chanting slowed. Because fire does that. And then together they sang happy birthday in a way I was much more comfortable with. Thank God for best friends and creating monsters, because without them stories like these would never be written.

Novs cake
The candy cake by Tina 🙂

 

Miss Piggy

Since it’s Saturday I figured I would post a silly little poem I wrote with my daughter. We had fun working on it together.

Miss Piggy

agriculture-84702_1280

 

She’s my secret treasure

That no one can measure

She likes lemonade

Freshly homemade

And hot baths with bubbles

Take away her troubles

She has a neighbor bumble bee

And they like to have tea

She has two other neighbors

They’re called twiddle-dee’s

And they like to tease

She has some friends

That have pet hens.

She wraps up in her little blanket

And sometimes wears an anklet

 

-Mom and Daughter