Published Date: June 2nd, 2008
Category: Poetry


It is a word that

you think you will

never use as

a young mother


Those perfect mothers may say

how irresponsible

how undeserving she is to have that child

how utterly lacking in respect for all that is

sacred in motherhood


Yet as you lay in your bed

trying to let go of a migraine

that you have had now for


Ten Days


listening to your son talk himself to sleep you wonder

Why shouldn’t I be able to sleep?

Why must I endure this pain?


You reach into your bedside table

fingering your stash of pain relievers

hoarded since the birth of your now

3-year old son

And swallow one


just one little pill


You peacefully call down to your husband

“Going to bed”

knowing tonight you will sleep

tonight your pain will subside


Tonight your son can survive without your

motherly rubbing of his back

So you can finally have one glorious night of

drug-induced unconsciousness

(you used to have many of these)

Where your headache has finally



This entry was posted on Monday, June 2nd, 2008 at 7:48 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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