The Trials Of Motherhood

(for Mother's Day 2004)

It starts, as morning gilds the skies and springtime blooms unfurl,
With rushes to the littlest room to lift the lid and hurl.
Then after months of stretching gut, of heartburn and back strain,
You "come to term" with pure, protracted, pulsing, pelvic pain.

Just after labour's sapped your will of all its frail reserves,
Your parasitic creature's screaming shreds your sleepless nerves.
Your toddler learns to speak and finds the whining words "But why?"
Then schooling bites with books and bills to bleed your bank-book dry.

Your teen gawks down from gangling heights, regards you with disdain,
Then leaves the roost rejecting all the truth that you retain.
For all your years of sacrifice, the years your children scarred,
You might expect some sympathy--instead you get this card.