I cried at the door,
When you turned me away.
You said with my child,
I wasn’t welcome to stay
At your conference,
I’d longed all year to attend.
But now our plans we have to amend.
Alas, a nursery I see,
I sigh relief, a place we can be!
“Your child is 22 months, just under two,
We only take children two and over,
We have no place for you.”
Pregnant and tired, my tears hit the ground,
We peer through the back door,
Without any sound.
Last year on the podium,
I was the conference speaker.
An entourage followed me,
You were an autograph-seeker.
But now that I’m pregnant,
With a toddler in my arms,
You turn us away without any qualms.
“Woman, if your child makes a sound, out you’ll have to go,”
I’m perplexed- we didn’t come to create a show.
So I went to the store
To purchase a book.
But it was a mistake,
When I saw your angry look.
As my toddler giggled and grinned while touching your wares,
My face burned with shame as I felt your hot glares.
“Woman, so are you buying all of this or not?”
I tried to hide my face, rather distraught.
O Child,
Some days it’s hard being a mother,
When to everyone you’re clearly such a bother.
Back in the days when Mama was a doctor,
People worshipped at her feet,
Said, “No one would mock her.”
Now that I’ve exchanged that badge for a label,
Known as “Mom,” I’m known as Keeper of a cradle.
In the eyes of the world, I’ve turned from gold to dust,
Yet I’ve gained more within that will never rust,
Of compassion, humility and plenty of grace,
And treasure for an eternal glory that will help me finish the race.
So though they might say I’ve lost my shine,
Let me neither complain nor even whine.
Even though to them I’m worth little now,
I’ll leave the stage gracefully, and take a bow.
One day, when you hold Mama’s wrinkly hand,
Up to the podium amidst an applause so grand,
Let us remember all Mamas in the audience,
And tell them and their babes, that they aren’t a nuisance.
You don’t belong to a dark room, a corridor or behind the hall,
Nobody here should make you feel small.
But for now, let me wipe my tears,
And not make a scene.
Your smile is my greatest reward when I see your eyes gleam.
We’ll kneel by the door just at the back,
We have play-dough and crayons,
To keep us quiet without lack.
Let me give up the glamor,
The rancour and clamour,
Let me surrender my rebuttals that serve to hammer.
For none of this will really matter,
In the face of pride that needs to shatter.
Perhaps one day they will see,
That Mamas are human too,
Our hearts are glorious and free.
So let me choose to revel in these days,
That set my burning heart ablaze.
After all, when this weary world fades away,
And my tears see what’s true,
Its all right that I now mean nothing to them,
When I mean,
Everything to you.
Love,
Mama
