When I have finished my bleed
I have a ritual bath
Tonight was the night.
As the kitchen sat full of dishes,
My daughter sat on my lap coughing
Playing with my necklaces
Threatening to flick me
I felt irritation rise like a flame in my throat.

She coughed and her eyes began to close
Something in her wanted to be close.
I've packed up her night-time nappies and last year
Weaned her from the breast
This was my first Christmas in so long
Without a baby wanting me and only me.

This is my ritual bath
After she coughed so hard she threw up all over us
And I praised her as my hand filled up with vomit.
She protested there was not any on her sock
As I tried to undress us both
There was.
I bribed her with my last bath bomb
To come in the bath with me.

So now we sit in a pink paradise
Eye to eye
Smelling each other's feet and telling each other
We smell of roses.
I fondly wash the leg that used to kick me inside
And now kicks me outside
In four year old exuberance.

We made the house a sacred space
With a spray of ylang ylang and bergamot
She chose and insisted on using
For the cleanup.
(The former her favourite
Since she used to call it "orangutan")
It wasn't goddess chants and mood lighting
But it was real
And I live for these moments
Where motherhood and spirituality
Intertwine.

- Jenny Wren