Quiet

by Lisa Douglas

Her chest rises and falls with every inhalation;
I struggle to adjust to its temporarily silence,
unwilling to disrupt it with electronic interference while she sleeps.

She flails about in her sleep often,
unable to attain rest-filled peace.
I stand guard, agitated and twitchy;
I want to rise, move about, do something, ANYTHING, but I can’t.

She prefers me sitting down or nearby;
I cannot leave the room,
I cannot put her down,
I cannot get a moment’s peace(!)

..until she sleeps.
I count the seconds where the only noise is the whurr of the fridge,
the clippity-clap of the air vent for the stove,
or a muffled shuffle from upstairs in a bedroom.

Quiet is decidedly rare here;
My fingers tap quietly now while tears spill.
Silence, at last. No wailing infant, no clingy, demanding breastfed baby.
My over-exhausted arms get a brief rest.
Many chores still to be done, but an unable mom cannot leave her baby’s slumbering side.
Delicious, borderline unattainable, spectacular quiet. But no peace.

You may also like

shares

Sharing is Caring

Help spread the word. You're awesome for doing it!