Sometimes the image in the mirror does not reflect the person you remember and the person looking back at you isn’t remotely familiar. In fact, mothering has changed you, given you gifts of longsuffering evident in your stretchmarks and wrinkles, unplucked eyebrows and the constant concern in your eyes. Embrace this woman. She needs a hug.

From the back cover of “Motherhood: The Crucible of Love”

Standing at the mirror
Hair askew and tank stretched and spotted
With who knows what
I see nothing but blurry lines
And eyes I do not know.
The shock startles me and I wonder:

Where is the mother in the woman?
Where is the woman in the mother?

The question surprises me and I
Bump my head as I stare
Into unknown eyes, exploring
A woman I’ve forgotten
Or traded
For those sleepers flopped
Like puppies in bed.

The woman before the breaking
Must have been me.
I can’t remember now
What solitude and papercuts
Feel like. But the paci on the sink
Warms my heart—

Little Eyes and fingers and toes
Flood my body with warmth
And a gummy smile with
One, two, what eight? little teeth
Makes my chest tight.

The mother is here.
And somewhere,
So is the woman.