For Renee, Charlotte, Christina, and Katy

What happens to a mother
When the heart she grew for you
Suddenly has to make room 
For two

What happens to a mother
Who once spent her days
Playing
Teaching
Cuddling
Dancing
Bribing
Laughing
Explaining
Exploring

Is now married to the couch, bed, or kitchen floor
Really anywhere the newest and most helpless child
Needs her more

What happens to a mother
Who used to giver her whole day
But now gives a defeated, “Maybe later”
As she scurries away

What happens to a mother
Who must learn on her own
The impossible task
Of divvying up her love like slices of cake

How sweet it tastes
But there never seems to be enough
To go around

This mother
She learns that the old saying isn’t quite right
The one that says
Your heart simply grows 
When you go from one to two

Instead, it sometimes breaks right in half 
As an homage to what was
And what will no longer be

But the heart of a mother
Is not rigid, fixed, or unchanging 

Like one of those fancy dining room tables 
That pulls apart in the middle
It looks broken and gaping for a moment
Until the extender is affixed

And suddenly there’s more
Where there wasn’t before

Sometimes we need to break a little
Or a lot
To become
Our newest, most expanded selves