A Young Mother’s Sacrament
It is all I can do to just sit
And rock,
Holding the baby,
Feeling the fatigue wash
Over my brain.
I feel muddled and tired.
My arms ache
And my chest aches.
The baby in my arms is a warm,
Drowsy weight.
My husband sits next to me,
Also half-asleep.
He bends at the waist,
The whole heaviness of his head
Balanced on the pressure
Of the bridge of his nose, pressed into his thumbs.
His hands clasped, elbows on knees, as if in prayer.
The meeting is all about just staying awake
Long enough to renew covenants made
Weekly since baptism.
I’m here, I think
As I chew
And as I drink.
I promise to always remember.
Whether waking or sleeping
Or the somewhere in between.
This piece was published in 2023 as part of the 12th Annual Mormon Lit Blitz by the Mormon Lit Lab. Sign up for our newsletter for future updates.