to everyone who comes to see the baby - a poem

Please see me.

I know you came to see the baby, but can you see me too?
Can you look into my eyes, even if I start to cry?
Will you comfort me?
Ask me how the transition is going? How I am coping?
Ask me what I need?
And when I tell you I’m fine, strongly suggest
a nap,
a bath,
a walk,
a hot coffee?

Please hear me.

I know you came to hear the baby coo,
burp,
and fart,
but could you hear and honour my feeding, sleeping, and resting choices?
Read between the lines when I say that, “I’m fine,” or “I’m just surviving?”
Could you not tell me to “cherish” these days?
Because we all know they’re hard.
Can we just admit that it’s hard?
Will you sit with me when I tell you how shitty I feel?
But please don’t try and fix it for me.
Just sit with me.

Please hold me.

I know you came to hold the baby, but can you hold me too?
Hold me.
Really hold me.
Before you ask to hold the baby.
Hold my hand while I tell you about my stitches,
hemorrhoids,
acne,
bleeding,
and leaking body parts.
Touch my knee while I tell you about the birth,
the midwife
or the doctor,
the nurses,
and my doula.
Rub my back when I tell you I haven’t slept more then 90 mins at a time for the last X days
Hold space when I complain about nothing fitting me anymore.

Hold ME while I tell you MY story.

Yes.
I may have a healthy baby,
but I too have just been born,
and it’s not always a smooth
or easy ride.
See ME while I tell you about my complex feelings,
emotions,
struggles,
and hormones.
Can you hold me till I fall asleep?
Rock me into slumber?
Bounce me into calm?
Just like you will the baby?
Can you hear ME when I tell you that I am NOT enjoying this?
That I want to take it back?
That I want to sleep?
When I say this is hard,
that this fucking sucks,
or how confused I am about my relationship,
my identity,
and my life,

will you hold me,

hear me,

and see me?

Oh,
and don’t even bother coming over if you’re not bringing me a casserole.

Thank you,
A New Mom