Two babies in my lap.
Both are borrowed.
I can't claim a hold on either. Even though I wear the scars of carrying and birthing one.
My job is to let go of both when the time comes.
Today they are jealous and vying for my attention. My lap is full of soft squishy babe. Hair in my face, elbows coming at me from all directions, hands pat-patting my back as I pat theirs.
My lap is overflowing.
My heart is full.
Today they want, and need, my love. My mothering.
Lord, help me let go when her Momma takes her back from me.
Lord, help me let go and step back as she grows and needs me less and less.
The thing with mothering: No matter how you come into it. It is always going to be about letting go.
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