I keep thinking it's too bad I can't give you a real new baby present, so I'm going to give you a virtual one. My favorite new mother poem by Sylvia Plath.
Quote: Sylvia Plath's “Morning Song”
Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.
Best Wishes,
MM
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" - Mary Oliver
