There always comes a calm.
That moment when the pain slips away into her distant memory. That moment when it becomes worth her sacrifice.
Everything before the calm was either a nightmare or a dream. Everything was either nothing she needed or everything she required. Everything is a chapter closed.
I can promise you the calm. Whether it lasts you one hour or one lifetime, there it will be. There, the moment her eyes lock in to yours. There, the moment her wet curls are placed on your chest. There, with your exhale.
Though the fluorescent lights are bright and the surgeon’s Operating Room is sterile. There, though your babe and you are lying on the filthy bathroom floor. There, whether anyone is noticing.
You are in the calm. Far away from the rage of the night’s storm.
I can feel your relief.
You are now your child’s keeper, and you steer away from the waves, and into your horizon.
If a mother’s love could guarantee a storm’s course of action, a mama would win every damn time, for her love is that powerful a force. But of course, life is not always fair.
I loved you for your fight, for your will. And I saw and absorbed in my bones, how you battled. For it, I guarantee you this moment of calm, as I guaranteed each contraction would come and go. Consider it a peace offering for your sacrifice, and protect your moment like a lighthouse protects its shores.
The calm is yours alone. Though others may try to intrude, their presence is not welcome here. The calm is yours to claim, and belongs to you alone.
You have earned its peace. Your child, has earned you.
You are her keeper now. Leave the storm behind, if you will.