I am no poet. In fact far from it, but why do I feel like writing a poem about the magic of motherhood?
At the end of a really trying and tiring day, why does the exuberant smile on my baby's face in response to my silly sounds make my day?
On seeing me, why does my baby crawling towards me from the end of the room and gesturing 'pick me up' makes every minute worthwhile?
When my baby stands up and takes his first few steps looking at me for encouragement and support, why does my heart brim with joy and pride at his achievement?
When my baby goes deep into slumber while listening to my special song for him, why do I feel a deep sense of contentment as if the most important job was well done?
When I see my baby and husband sleeping peacefully next to each other, why I do feel as if life is as it should be?
At the end of a really trying and tiring day, why does the exuberant smile on my baby's face in response to my silly sounds make my day?
On seeing me, why does my baby crawling towards me from the end of the room and gesturing 'pick me up' makes every minute worthwhile?
When my baby stands up and takes his first few steps looking at me for encouragement and support, why does my heart brim with joy and pride at his achievement?
When my baby goes deep into slumber while listening to my special song for him, why do I feel a deep sense of contentment as if the most important job was well done?
When I see my baby and husband sleeping peacefully next to each other, why I do feel as if life is as it should be?
