Breaking The Water

The waters that released you

From my body

Into this world

Had to be broken by a third party

None of us knew how

To make it happen naturally.

To begin your beginning

We had to bring in professionals

And with a stern snap

They punctured the protective membrane

That kept you suspended inside of me.

My insides, it seems,

Required outside intervention

To begin the process

Of pushing  

You out.

Yet once it began,

Your progress was linear:

To join the world,

You had to leave my womb.

There were waves of pain,

Cresting tides

Of trembling and nausea

But then

You went from being unborn

To being born,

From my womb,

To my arms.

But your second release

Seems trickier.

I have even less control

Over the waters that govern this process.

They swirl around our ankles

And shift the ground

Beneath our feet

And make me nostalgic

For the one-way itinerary

Of birthing,

How I wish now

For some outside professional

To puncture the barriers

Of dependence definitively

And release you into

Adulthood:

A break in parental waters

Resulting in your absolute autonomy.

And my role, as in the beginning,

Would be to be the only canal you need,

Rather than the occasional obstacle,

The intermittent interruption

That in your eyes

I so often seem

To be.