Motherhood, Post-Shift

by Veronica Tucker

Image credit: Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I come home

and my child wants to play—

blocks scattered,

tiny hands reaching

for mine.

But my hands

are still holding

what I can’t put down—

the weight of bodies

I couldn’t save,

the echo of voices

that don’t belong here.

I sit on the floor,

smile where it fits,

stack plastic bricks

into something

that looks like

I’m present.

But inside,

I’m still in that room,

still hearing

what won’t stop.

Motherhood demands

you be whole.

But some days,

all I have

are pieces.

***

Veronica Tucker

Veronica Tucker is an emergency medicine and addiction medicine physician whose poetry explores the intersections of medicine, motherhood, and humanity. A lifelong New Englander, she weaves themes of trauma, resilience, and fleeting time into her work, drawing from her career in the emergency department. She is married with three children and two dogs, balancing the chaos of medicine with her love for travel, fitness, running, and family. When she’s not writing or working, she can usually be found savoring a quiet moment with a matcha latte, reflecting on the beauty in life’s smallest details.