I love, love, love these poems from @hanahrowrites on Instagram. Make sure to tag her in your posts if you use these any of these! Also, check out her website here to purchase prints of her poems: https://www.hannahrowrites.com/
Now for your weekly caption ideas:
A mother is a mother
I watched baby geese grow this spring, noticing them first in April, more fluff than beak. I soon saw them everywhere. At the riverbank, on the boating dock, by the reservoir. Each group had mothers circling by, providing them safe space to practice the art of living. By May's end, they were halfway grown, soft tufts giving way to awkward limbs. It nearly broke my heart and I wondered if their mothers too felt the sharp punch line of time, or if they were all too consumed with safekeeping to notice how quickly their babies had grown.
by @hannahrowrites
There is so much to do
We list all sorts of things we need to do.
Clean the house, do the laundry, hang the curtains, plan our next months and years.
We write lists. On our phones, on the dry erase board glued to our fridge, on notebooks scattered throughout the house. But in these early spring evenings, we say instead, should we walk? And we stroll down tree-lined streets, waving to neighbors, stopping by the park so our daughter can swing. Talking, or not, together. And on these evenings, when the light is out past seven and we choose to ignore everything with a checkbox, I think to myself, even if nothing gets done, what a joy it is to be alive.
by @hannahrowrites
Love poem for our babies (whatever their age)
Do you know how many minutes I've spent just watching you breathe? How I've knelt beside your crib in a dark room, held a dim light up to see your tiny chest move up and down?
How I've stared at your face, memorized it-small, asleep, peaceful. How many hours, if you added them up, that I've spent watching the air coming in and out of your lungs?
That is to say that if someday you find yourself listless, on a sidewalk in a city full of concrete and anonymity, or on a dirt road in a faraway country with the familiar pain of loneliness, wondering if anyone or anybody cares, please remember that I do. I do.
by @hannahrowrites
Nothing but mother
After birth, I am all at once at home and out of place. Every task now a luxury of time. I want to spend all day with the baby, I want to spend all day alone. This month I have done nothing but mother, my body given in service to a tiny human I just met.
Still, the baby's breath rises and falls, her hand on my neck. I am a planet, a universe. And even though nothing else has been done, I imagine all great things began with someone who stopped their own orbit for a moment in time to do nothing at all but mother.
by @hannahrowrites
Somebody's baby
After your two week appointment we drive to a cafe and sit in the car with the windows down
while your dad gets treats to keep us awake and full these early days. You were born in spring and my tired eyes wander from cherry blossoms to your face and back again. We celebrated this morning, just fifteen days of watching you grow.
Life feels fast and slow right now, each day an odyssey, each week a blur. We're parked near a college and students wander in and out of red brick buildings and I think how every one of them is somebody's baby. How one springtime not far from this one, you will stroll outside too, out to class and back again. And even then, with your near grown face and purposeful walk, you will still be somebody's baby. You will still, will always, be mine.
by @hannahrowrites