"The Birth"

At 5:31 a.m. she was born.
Of course she was helpless
and frail
to the path before her, but she was also
determined and
glowing with a newfound warmth.

Her body surged with
changes that shook the
foundation of
self image she may have known.

Cries arose with a welcoming echo
where before
there were many moons of silent growth.

Safe in the newness of
shared body warmth,
she looked for the first time at the
life so attached to her own.

Relief,
joy, and
utter love
swept over her as the
soothing milk
worked relentlessly at arrival to hungry lips.

She needed not a name,
for that was something she had been granted
long ago,
during another birth
where she was the one
joining the world as an infant,
but not today.

At 5:31 a.m. a mother was born.

By Laura Schmitt


**Note: I changed the time in this poem to match my birth story with sweet Zoey.