hush little baby don't say a word

You probably don’t remember. But I used to stand, leaning against the doorway, to watch you sleeping. Lying on your back. The silent rise and fall of your belly, baby breathing. My heart, so full of love I thought it near to bursting.

It’s what I remember. After you scream at me, tell me I don’t love you, curse me out, stomp out of the house, doors slamming. I scream back sometimes. But when you’re gone, my heart near bursts again. Love mixed with confusion and pain. Fear of my baby back-lying again with no breath left in her lungs.