Claudine Nash | Growing pains

In the hours after your

birth I can’t shake the

cold that passes through

this recent hollow. I didn’t

know that you had been

warming my blood all this

time, that I would know

such a drastic drop in

temperature without you

even with you asleep on

top of me that entire first

night and having already

lived decades without so

much as a sheet. How am

I so unaware that I would

be incomplete from the

outset and already your

outgrown gowns make

me mourn?



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