I carry with me the first time I saw you,
the apprehension on your face
that gradually melted away.
I carry the sounds of your painful cries
the terrors you encountered at night
and the stories of your past.
I carry our first shopping trip
and all the things you chose,
things that helped my house become your home.
I carry the times you fell and scuffed your knees
when you tried to climb to twice your height upon a frame,
and when you bumped your head and ran to me for the first time.
I carry the intensity of the uncertainty
waiting to hear for sure that you would be coming home with me,
I carried you for months on end, before I saw your face,
not through womb but in a much more important place.