They told me about the rosy things that I had to feel,
they said it'll be a joyful event, a moment of completeness
and the soothing medicine for my pains to heal.
And they left me at that, alone, to fend for myself.
I was scared to hold your wobbly head, and held you gingerly like a piece of glass,
mentally cursing my MBA professors, for not teaching this in class.
And came those long sleepless nights, when you decided to play,
and your father decided to snore away.
For a person who turned down jobs with a night shift,
my dear son, this thing felt like a nasty whiff.
The permutation and combination of diapers I changed while it was dripping,
it smelt bad, and who am I kidding!
The hours I spent in the bathroom, almost giving up, crying till my eyes turned red,
those days my dear son, I yearned and ached and craved, for a good cup of tea and breakfast in my bed...
So what made me grit my teeth and walked through it all?
I am not sure but am betting it's the smile you smiled every time you played with the red sponge ball.
Or the thrill that ran through my spine the first time you said "mama!"
Anyways I learnt, it's a phase of my life, where you were the King of my drama.
But, Oh! My dear son, don't get so cute, I still have my revenge planned for you
Guess who's got the weekend diaper duty for your baby sister?
Haha, the joke's on you!