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Foreign I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. Once upon a time I was a new mother with a baby girl in my arms and I was her whole world. It was 17 years ago, but sometimes I swear I can transport myself back there just by closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I remember reading that a baby's first three months of life are called the fourth trimester. Three trimesters are spent in the mother's body, bobbing around like a little fish. But the fourth trimester is when everyone is adapting to life in the outside world. The babies seem bewildered, trying to adjust to nursing and sleeping, but I think parents are just as bewildered. The physical and emotional recovery from labor is intense on top of caring for another human being around the clock. The first three months, the first six months, if I'm honest, were really difficult. I was exhausted, depleted, emotional. I loved my daughter and I missed my solitude. I loved her father and I resented his freedom. I loved my life and I didn't know how to live it. Mercifully, we all forget much of the fourth trimester. We forget the missed naps and 2am and 3am and 4am cluster feedings. We forget the creature like newborn cry and the bad latches and the desperate calls to the lactation specialist. We forget so much. But if I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I can remember the smell of the top of my daughter's head and the feeling of it cupped in the palm of my hand. And those two things alone are enough to make me weep. She is turning 17 and she is taller than me and she is still and always my baby. Today's poem transported me back to the long days when my baby girl and I were the whole universe. Long days, but short years, as they say. A toast to something beautiful flapping in the Wind by J. Hope Stein to something beautiful flapping in the wind above the beach houses a blue bird. No, a blue bag to her breath. Raindrops in the begonia bed. My eyesight is rainstorms. Drop drop to 4am her first ocean everyone is sleeping except Una and the ocean. Una and the ocean. I try to explain in whale song. I try to explain in cloud and water. Droplet drop drop Spending time with a baby is spending time with something that has lived her entire life in an ocean and just sprouted legs for land. I am Copernicus using the planet of my body to umbrella the wind as she feeds. Ouch. I stick my fingers in her mouth and she's grown sharp little fish teeth drop. Everyone is sleeping except Oona and the ocean. Una and the ocean and the little fish teeth. Drop drop drop drop drop. I tell time by counting teeth marks around the crooked nipple. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with a Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on instagram slowdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org. Foreign. Maggie here, host of the Slowdown Listening to and reading poetry helps us find our footing in an uncertain world, especially during challenging times. You can help keep these moments of poetry and reflection going by making a gift today. Visit slowdownshow. Org Donate.
Podcast: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily
Episode: 1427: “A toast to something beautiful flapping in the wind” by J. Hope Stein
Host: Maggie Smith
Date: January 5, 2026
In this poignant episode, host Maggie Smith explores the emotional landscape of early motherhood, using J. Hope Stein's poem as a springboard for reflection. Smith recalls her own memories from her daughter's infancy—moments marked by exhaustion, wonder, and transformation. Through the poem and her insights, Smith illuminates the bittersweet passage of time and the deep, sometimes conflicting emotions that accompany mothering a newborn.
[00:32 – 02:10]
[02:15 – 03:31]
[02:06–02:14; 03:32]
Reflective and intimate, the episode invites listeners to pause amid daily routines and consider the gifts and aches of tending new life. Smith’s language is candid, poetic, and deeply personal, mirroring the poem’s emotional honesty.
This episode is a meditation on parenthood’s vulnerability, transformation, and the power of poetry to distill memory and emotion. Even for those without firsthand experience of parenthood, Smith’s reflections and Stein’s imagery invite empathy, compassion, and a renewed sense of wonder in the everyday.