What's Left?

"You cannot pour from an empty cup."


These are the words every NHS professional, post natal therapist wants to tell me.


"But I cannot envisage a life with a full cup."


I want to say back.

But shame and logic keep my lips tightly shut, and instead,

I smile and nod, and wait for the hour to pass

So I can go another week

with a glass half-empty.

Oops, I'm sorry,

I mean, half-full.

It is always half-full.

Not all the way there, but still better than empty.

I pour some water into my son's beaker.

He drinks it fervently.

Like my water is the best water he has ever had.

So I pour and I pour and I pour

because his smile is all I need to get through the day.

At night I lay my head down on my pillow

and a text from my therapist reads:

"What's left?"

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