When Mama is sick, the kids get uneasy.
Children don't like it, when Mama is queasy.
I tell myself then, the kids used to be worse,
When tantrums happened, and they often would curse.
It is better now, though I fall to old ways.
I act like a cat, and pretend I'm OK.
I care for myself, when they aren't around.
But when they are here, I jump up with a bound.
As hard as it is, to be a good mama.
It's harder to be, a mama of trauma.