March 11,2007 - The blues and the funnies.

So, I’ve been a bit blue lately. Make that a purplish-back. The upcoming year anniversary of our trauma, along with the birthdays of so many precious babies who no longer grace this earth, has been heavy on my heart. I think about these children often and ache for their families. (If I am having trouble dealing with the sadness, I cannot even imagine the gut wrenching grief that these families are facing.) It is a strange mix of emotions in my heart; the incredible sorrow swirling amongst the pure amazement and gratitude for those that have survived. I’ve really been thinking about Joshua and his mommy, Becky, as well as the anniversary of Drew’s birth recently. I also just spent some time hanging out with Rachel (Judah’s mommy), while she took the most adorable pictures of the Little Bear. All of these thoughts have been a catalyst for a poem. I think I express my emotions so much more completely in poetry than in any other form of communication. I always feel as though I’ve cleaned an infected wound when I write a poem. Anyway, this is for Drew’s mommy, Jana, Judah’s mommy, Rachel, Joshua’s mommy, Becky and all the other women who’ve lost their sons before any mother should. (See links at right to visit Drew and Judah’s blogsites.)

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I’ll Sing You a Song

I waited so long to sing you a song
And to snuggle you close to my breast.
I yearned for your touch and your fingers to clutch
As I rested my hand on your chest.
I wanted to see whose eyes they would be
Staring out of your radiant face.
Whose nose, whose brow, whose sweet dimpled jowl,
With what relative could they be placed?
Then it was done. I gave birth to my son
And awaited the sound of your cry.
I strained to hear and trembled with fear,
Held my breath, and didn’t blink an eye.
Barely a sound round my eardrum wound
Before they whisked you away in a flash.
My heart stood still. My child was ill.
Everything happened so fast.
Through the terror and pain I heard them explain
What was to be my precious son’s fate.
They could not know the pain in my soul
As my heart did silently break.
The machines were stopped. The monitors dropped.
And at last I could hold you close.
There were no cheers, only bitter sweet tears
And I kissed your perfect nose.
Your spirit did soar and the grief, it tore
An unmendable wound in my soul.
Now my angel you’ll be, a sweet memory to me,
And while on earth I will never be whole.
But with the Lord’s grace, all is not waste
And one day I’ll stand by His side.
There also you’ll be, standing with me
And forever with Him we’ll abide.
For the Author of all, who formed one so small,
Promises in Heaven pure joy.
When the pain is all gone I’ll sing you a song,
My beautiful, beautiful, baby boy.

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On the lighter side, I have a Jerusha tale to tell: I was in the change room with Jerusha at Walmart (one of my most favorite places in the world!) trying on shirts. She exclaims innocently, “That one is beautiful, Mommy. Are you going to get it?”

Mommy: I don’t think so, Honey. It hangs funny.

Jerusha, in a loud voice: Yeah, your breasts look funny.

Mommy mumbles under her breath while trying on next shirt.

Jerusha, again using a voice you could hear in the back of a theater: How about that one, Mommy? Your breasts don’t look *too* funny now.

Mommy, in an *almost* controlled, very embarrassed whisper: Jerusha, do you want to wait at home with Daddy next time?!!!!!! SHHHOOSH! And turn around, put your nose in the corner, don’t open your lips and don’t look at me again!

On the way out, I wonder why people are looking at me. Are they checking to see if my child’s comments were founded or am I just paranoid? I decide I’ll simply never go back so I won’t have to think about it. Then again, its Walmart. . .Who am I kidding? I’ll be back.

And one more thing to tickle your funny bone is this "oops"picture that Rachel took of Silas. I call it "Yeah, well I was addicted to Morphine before I was a month old, so there!" I will post the beautiful ones she took soon. Until then. . .