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Welcome to April again, the month of newness, at least for me. The month in which anything could happen, particularly in the literary world. 

This year, my NaPoWriMo writings will be different, simply put because I myself am different. I find myself a mother now, & of a 5 week old baby. While writing is still a massive part of who I am, I know for sure that the daily postings will not be possible for me (she says, redundantly, while posting on the third day of April rather than the first!). I will most likely be grouping my poems into batches & posting them when I get the chance to. 

There are times of the day when I get to scribble down whatever poetic thoughts enter my tired brain, usually when The Child is nestled onto my chest or into the crook of my elbow, but forming them into poems takes a little more effort than The Child sometimes affords me, so I will not stress myself with trying to post even day, I will just try to compose every day.

The arrival of The Child will undoubtedly change my writing aswell, & I am interested to see the evolution of my poetry as a mother now. I am almost my own social experiment. I hope that it is something enjoyable if nothing else.

Without further waffling, I give you my first three poems.

Good luck to my fellow poets at the start of this round of NaPoWriMo, I look forward to reading everyone’s posts this month.

NaPoWriMo day 1:

Life is different now.
In the quiet way that monumental changes happen,
it crept on me like an ivy;
with searching tendrils finding footholds in my chest, hooking into veins.
Impossible to displace.
I watch it with a calming sort of panic,
a sense of things to come,
a knowledge of difficulty ahead.
I wait for it like a meditating breath being held,
the moment before the release of
tension pulling across my collarbones.
I watch, suspended,
and I wait.

NaPoWriMo day 2:

The change of the seasons brings with it the taste of hope;
the tang of summer sweetness on the air that fills the mouth
and head with possibilities.

I picture long leisurely evenings,
the air thick with honeysuckle,
and scents that hijack the senses,
like peanut butter on the roof of the mouth.
I feel my limbs stretch along with my mind,
hurrying past spring with it’s regrowth,
it’s rebirth.
Race ahead to summer
and what it could be.
This year,
this one,
will be unforgettable. 

NaPoWriMo day 3:
I will always fear the memory
of the greatest day in my life.
The child was perfect.
Pink and shining,
skin new to the air,
eyes new to our faces,
ears already familiar with our voices,
searching for us whenever we spoke.
It desperately frightened me –
the hospital, the lights, the surgery,
a fear I now can’t quite form words to.

But it gave me her,
and a fullness in my chest that has yet to subside, a balloon lodged in my throat
with the love of her.
That day,
that wonderful, terrifying day.
I lived and died,
laid aside an old skin
and donned the new.
Became something other than what I had been.
I cried for the skin now shed
and for the one now exposed
raw and fragile, same as hers.
We held to each other
tightly as we could,
and have yet to let go
for fear of that day.