After a few days, you know how to navigate <br />one-handed, how to fold the baby into <br />the nook of your arm. Nursing, that most natural <br />and impossible task, becomes second nature. <br /> <br />Mainly, though, you feel the stirrings <br />of your old and battered heart, pulled shapeless <br />over the years, webbed and broken, with its <br />worms of glue plainly visible at the seams; <br /> <br />you hold the child in your arms, and love <br />pours out of every crack and crevice, <br /> <br />surrounding your baby on all sides, replacing <br />the warm bath that had come to seem like home, <br />and forming an invisible shield like the one that you, <br />only now, are beginning to remember.<br /><br />Leah Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-body-has-its-own-memory/
