Maternity Leave (Poem)

I have recently started to write poetry again as well as writing this blog. I used to write poetry as a teenager and wrote a few poems in the intervening years but now I am trying to write more. The following is a stream-of-consciousness poem about our day today that I thought I would share. It is entitled:

Maternity Leave

My vest top is soaked
with milk I must have
fed him on the wrong
side I did have a breast
pad in he is grumping
now in his cot his
brother watching Wylie
Coyote on the TV there
are no less than five
empty cups in the
lounge and a bag of
nappies in the bathroom that
need to go round to the
bin and the washing
up that my husband
did last night has grown
again as if by magic
spreading from the
sink like a disease.

There is a pile of
clothes on the bed as
if we never do laundry
when it seems like all
we do is laundry and
washing up and every
time you feed the baby
there is laundry (wash-
cloths, bibs, clean clothes)
and washing-up (bowl,
several spoons, high-chair
tray) I just ate
three chocolate bars by
mistake (it may have
been four) only one was
a mistake really – it was my
son’s; I couldn’t
remember if I had eaten
my one (though I ate four
it seems) there are two
left: one for him one
for his dad.

The fridge needs cleaning
and the bags packing for
the holiday I did book the
travel insurance and wipe
down the toilet seat lid with
the antibacterial wipes that
were the wrong ones for
the baby’s toys on
the plane and we did
buy a (secondhand) bookcase
for the DVDs and a
ride-on suitcase my
son is now sitting on to
watch TV. We returned
books to the library and
bought toys for the plane
and bought stuff for dinner
(and the right sort of anti-bac
wipes) then I dropped
the (other) DVD rack on my
foot and got the frozen
beans and the baby was grumpy
and the lounge still a mess
and my husband walks
in the door and I remember
when he stayed home with
the (one) kid for a while
while he was waiting for his
visa and I was mildly
irritated that I had been
at work all day and
the house was not spotless.

Now it is not just not spotless
it has grown new spots as I
play whack-a-mole with
the tidying and it all seems
a bit silly like there really
aren’t enough hours in the
day and I even got up early
this morning and made eggs
and didn’t even go on my
smartphone to read the news
(except for about five minutes).


“Maternity Leave” © Alexandra Roark 2015


Published by

Burnt Supper

British/American, postgraduate, wife, mother, dog-owner

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