Nursing My Newborn Poem by Sandy Fulton

I never want it to stop, nursing my newborn.
It is the most beautiful time
when my breasts engorge and tingle
and warmth spreads through my body,
easing away care.

It soothes a baby, to a mother it's a delight.
I never knew it would turn me to liquid milk
when his little mouth roots,
his rosy lips clamp on a nipple,
and the quiet sucking begins.

I float away to a better world
where people cling and love shamelessly.
If, as some preachers say,
we shun each other's bodies in heaven,
then I'll take eternal sleep.

That breast is drained, but there's another.
So tall and sturdy, he's still hungry.
After a while his eyes begin to close
and for a quarter hour
he drinks from my body asleep.

I too nod off, but come awake
when he drops into deep dreams,
the nipple slips from his mouth, with drops of milk.
His little belly's so full
I could play it like a tom-tom.

Never would I treat him so.
I carry him tenderly to his cradle,
lay him down, cover and tuck him in,
sing to him, rock his little bed,
marvel at his perfection.

This miniature man!
How could he have begun
out of elements so small
to swell up inside me
and bring such joy?

Most nights, the greatest miracle of all!
He'll sleep for twelve hours
while I dream in my husband's arms,
my milk rejuvenates,
and I wake again with eager breasts.