Ode to the Wonders of Motherhood

In the quiet whispers of dawn’s embrace,
A mother’s tale begins, with gentle grace.
Breastfeeding’s bond, a journey deep,
In sleepless nights, when stars do keep.

“Ugh,” she sighs, in weary jest,
Awaiting the day she’ll finally rest.
Her body, a vessel of life’s grand art,
Holds more than milk, but a beating heart.

Critics may linger in shadows near,
With words that sting and eyes that leer.
“Shouldn’t the weight just drift away?”
They question, in a tone so gray.

But in her mirror, a warrior stands,
Bearing the marks of love’s demands.
A body reshaped, a soul reborn,
In the miracle of life, she is adorned.

“I thought you looked great,” a friend recalls,
A soothing balm as darkness falls.
Yet, in her own eyes, flaws align,
Her harshest critic, by her own design.

Within her chest, a battle fierce,
Between self-love and doubts that pierce.
The struggle of worth, a silent cry,
Underneath the vast, indifferent sky.

Yet, there’s magic in her tired eyes,
A glimpse of wonder that never dies.
For she has woven from blood and dreams,
A life that breathes, that smiles, that screams.

“Isn’t it wild?” she whispers in awe,
To the partner who shares this life’s raw.
A shared journey, in love encased,
In the little life, together they’ve traced.

Empowerment, a fleeting ghost,
Sought by those who need it most.
In a world that oft forgets to praise,
The mother’s strength, in her weary gaze.

But in her heart, a quiet truth,
A realization from age to youth.
“I grew you inside of me,” she marvels,
In each stretch mark, her story unravels.

For in her skin, each line and curve,
Lies the story of love, of nerve.
A testament to life’s grand dance,
In every tired, yet loving glance.

So here’s to mothers, in their might,
In their struggles, in their fight.
For in each one, lies a universe,
Of love profound, complex, and diverse.