HELD

My baby spends much time in my arms

Today while nursing he is active

Hands flailing , feet kicking

I ask, Why so busy?

Tell him, One day you will learn how to do things while eating;

a sandwich or smoothie while you walk, drive, work

But now is not that time

He drifts to sleep

re-awakens, eats, plays, sleeps again

I feed, burp, soothe

In time

I lay him down to nap,

Gently and cautiously, a ticking bomb

My arms free, I dive into my never finished always growing to-do list

It is never enough time

and yet

(and yet)

When he awakes

My heart reaches through my hands

I hold him, hold him close, tend to him

His body is pliant, curled up in sleep, the nature of newborn beings

He is my baby,

My squishy, squirmy, wiggly, snuggly baby

My poopy, tooty, hiccupy, burpy baby

My ever kissable baby

His eyes bounce all around

Then fasten on my face

I drink him in

Every bit of his tiny, perfect, beautiful self

I talk to him, sing to him,

I run out of words, run into tiredness

Shoulders aching

He smiles in his sleep

I melt

I think, surely I cannot love him more

yet each day seems to prove me wrong

He sleeps

I watch (watch over him)

I think my arm or chest is his favorite pillow

My baby spends much time in my arms.