You were once inside me. I grew you there.

Today I napped with my baby and she was still asleep when I woke up. It felt so nice to snuggle that I stayed there and wrote this poem:

You were once inside me. I grew you there.
I didn't always love having you in there.
Sometimes it made me really sick.
Sometimes I couldn't do things I wanted to do.
Sometimes my back and hips and feet hurt.
Sometimes I was so tired.
Sometimes my ribs hurt from your crazy kicking.

On the day I went into labor,
I was excited to be done with pregnancy
And to get to meet you.
When you were about to be born,
I was excited to be done pushing
And to be done with the pain,
And there was a LOT of pain.

When I first saw you, someone said "here is your baby."
It was hard for me to comprehend.
Here was the being that was kicking me in the ribs.
And making my back and hips and feet hurt.
And making me so tired.
Just yesterday.
Yesterday!
And now here you were.

With the arrival of my milk
Came the arrival of so many love hormones.
More than I had ever felt at once before.
That was when my body knew:
You were once inside me.
I grew you there.

Sometimes I hold you so close
Because I miss having you inside me.
Sometimes you squeeze me back
And even though I'm pretty sure you're just trying to eat my shoulder,
I like to think that you know that you were once inside me.
And that I grew you there.
And you miss it too.