Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Weaning: Burial

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The night we buried my uncle was the first night
my son fell asleep without nursing. He didn’t even ask.
As he was falling asleep, I thought of the earth
each of us shoveled onto my uncle’s coffin, the thud
of dirt hitting wood. Back at the hotel, I thought:
I am the mother of a son who will one day die.
Look at her, cleaning the potty with a baby wipe,
black mascara smudged beneath her eyes.
My son isn’t home, he’s out of routine--
that’s why he forgot to nurse. Tomorrow
he may ask again, when we’re home
and I’ve changed out of my black clothes,
my uncle hovering in the corner of the ceiling,
the room full of winter light, Christmas near.


Wendy Wisner is the author of two books of poems, Epicenter (2004) and Morph and Bloom (due out in August 2013). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Prairie Schooner, Spoon River Poetry Review, Bellevue Literary Review, RHINO, Natural Bridge, 5AM, and Verse Daily. Wendy is an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant (IBCLC) and blogs about breastfeeding, motherhood, and writing at Nurse Me Mama. To read more of her poems or to order books, please visit www.wendywisner.com.


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I read this after nursing my son to sleep tonight...i admit to being happy it didn't take long, but thank you for reminding me to not take it for granted. Precious time.
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