Ask Me in December

Ask me in December

when the round, low weight

of my abdomen

is sleeping

in the red bassinet by the footboard

of our bed.

By then,

if the people who already know

(and everyone- parent or not- seems to be an expert)

are right,

we should be getting a little sleep

and the hungry cries

at 10 and 2

will begin to dwindle-

but only if we have a good baby.

For now,

strangers will break my space bubble

and lay hands

on this life-changing growth

I am incubating.

They give unsolicited advice

on the most intimate of topics-

money, sex, coping with blended faith,

and how to heal the chafed nipples

that they all promise I will have.

But nobody speaks

of the leap of faith

we took when creating new life.

I don’t know if they remember

the screaming we did in our car

in driveways of various parties

when we were parked in

and needed a place to say the terrible things

we only say to one another.

They don’t ask

about whether he is still

sleeping in his office on a few nights per week

or if he has started to look at me

again

like he did when we first met.

So when you do ask me, this December,

about the direction of our family

and whether the person-shaped promise

we made

was enough-

will you ask the hard questions?

Will you see past our charming façade?

Will you mistake our exhausted, sated joy for strife?

If you do get it wrong,

stay.

Learn to know us.

The only thing I can tell you now

is that it will be different in December

and every December after that.