A Baby and Someone Else 4/8/18

to look at a baby
is to look at yourself
for a long time,
for years really,
before you
realize
she is not
a baby and somebody else
anymore.

she is just
herself now.

you had no idea
who she would be
when you looked upon
her face,
face to face
for the first time.

her hair was so much
more than you thought
it would be.
it was so black
and it had that curl.

her fingers were so much
smaller than her brother's
or any other baby's
you'd ever seen
up close
or imagined.

her nose was perfect.

her mouth was perfect.

and when you spotted
her tongue
you felt like
you spotted
a dolphin
on a day cruise
you took once
but couldn't
afford.

you were twenty-six
and she was
your last baby.

she was the baby
who made you
the mother
of a whole family
while you were
still in your
twenties.

all around you
it was the
twenty-first
century
and you'd never
believed
in a sexist god
or voted for
a republican
in your whole
young life.

weren't you a curiosity.

wasn't that
your thing
for a little while?

she was the baby
who made you
a young woman
with a baby
again.

she was the toddler
who made you
the young mother
of a certain kind
of toddler,
the kind that
is hard to raise
feels so much
is some kind of fairy -
beautiful
magical
not of this earth really
with dark hair.

and then suddenly
you are a woman
all of your own
for the first time
all alone
for the first time
realizing
this baby
is a person now
and you aren't
more than
her mother
necessarily.

it's just
now you aren't
even
her mother,
not completely.

because
this baby,
like all the ones
who came before her,
is writing the stories
of herself
and you aren't
on every page.