Ode to Motherhood

 I love being a mother.
It is my pride,
My point in the universe.
The babies grown up to be
Men and women
Without me.
The baby given away,
The babies died a-borning
Grown up without me
Or gone ahead without me.
They have found their life in me
And gone on.
Whether before birth,
At birth,
Or in grown-up-hood,
They don't need me anymore;
And I am left behind
To wonder
What to do next.
But they have made me
More than I have made them.
Nothing lit up death
More than baby-life.
Nothing brought me lower
Than being scolded by my children.
The paradox of utter self-absorption in pregnancy
To give birth
And then
Utter self-sacrifice in growing up babies
Throws me back,
Stunned.
Being a mother
Has made me
What I am
Without children.