Becoming a Mother

She was so small,

but the weight of her
cradled in my arms
felt almost too heavy—

as if, instead of her little body,
I held the entirety of my world
against my chest.

No one could have explained
what it means to be a mother:

the depths of exhaustion,
the fear,
and adoration.

I wouldn’t have understood
until I saw

those tiny fingers,
those quiet
dark eyes,
framed in lovely
black lashes.

The gravity
of loving her
tore at the edges
of who I used to be.

It startled me.
It still does.

The depth of it–
the responsibility of care.

It shattered my foundation,
broke me open,
and made me

something new.