The water told me you were coming.

A mid-night warning to prepare.
But, it didn’t prepare me.
It couldn’t.

For the fast pains.
For the small bodies.
For the lungs that needed help to breathe.
For the fluorescent lights and sterile room closing in, as I was left with the longing to hold you.

For the daily check-ins.
For the cords and cables.
For the begging of progress.
For the ounces and milliliters.

For the balancing act.
For the empty nursery.
For the tears.
For the leaving.

Where to put the love that was carried and felt for months?

I guess that’s when loving means leaving.

Through the sorrow, I leave you to learn.
Through the sadness, I leave you to grow.

I’ll be learning and growing, too.