Poems From The Kitchen Table

Written while pregnant with my first child, not yet knowing I’d be a boy mom.

Feeding is an act of love.
There are few things in life that compare—
Looking into his eyes, hearing sweet chortling sounds.
Breastfeeding isn’t easy.

There are few things in life that compare—
Your baby asleep at your breast, smiling.
Breastfeeding isn’t easy.
We are not alone in our confusion.

Your baby asleep at your breast, smiling.
Nobody tells you breastfeeding hurts—
Mastitis, plugged ducts, thrush, sore nipples.
We are not alone in our confusion.

Mastitis, plugged ducts, thrush, sore nipples—
A relationship that lasts long after weaning.
The first bond that gentles him into the world.
Nobody tells you breastfeeding hurts.

A relationship that lasts long after weaning.
Feeding is an act of love.
The Womanly Art—a transformational experience.
The first bond that gentles him into the world.

I wrote this poem while pregnant with my son, not yet knowing I was carrying a boy. I had been reading everything I could about motherhood and breastfeeding—filled with love, fear, and so many unknowns. This piece, written in a creative writing class at Stanford, reflects both the tenderness and the quiet hardship of the journey I was about to begin.

Copyright © 2025 Valentina DuPont. All rights reserved.