a realization at 2 a.m.

there are moments when i think i'll never be able to be a parent. when the pleasures of staying up and sleeping in, spending my money on myself, and traveling on a dime weave themselves into my fancy. when i look at my own mama and wonder how to measure up. when i see all that the world is coming to and think about the cold future. when i look at my shortcomings, failures and inadequacies. for instance, my stutter makes me hate the phone. what will i do that day my daughter asks me to call and see if her friend can come over for a playdate? will i make robert do it? will she, in turn, love him more?

there are nights, when everyone is asleep and my little road is jet black and silent. when something catches me awake and i can't return to the comfort of my unconscious. when i stare at the ceiling, red alarm clock light bouncing off. and wonder about things like this, though i'm nowhere near pregnant.

but last wednesday night, pablo ate some dove chocolate, tinfoil included. six pieces, and he was up all night sick. and i laid, outside of the covers, on his little pallet, and rubbed his back for two hours. my feet cold, with robert slumbering unaware, mere inches away. i went outside with him at 2 a.m. and fed him at 3. i looked into his big eyes and reassured him with soft coos.

and i thought to myself, maybe i've got a little more mama in me than i thought.