• KitWriter shared a letter in the Group logo of Remembering those we lost/GriefRemembering those we lost/Grief group 1 month, 2 weeks ago

    My Darlng, My Child

    My Darling, My Child

    You, the child of our hearts, begin your life on earth.
    We celebrate conception and dance through the house with joy.

    This will be your room.
    This will be your view.
    This will be your backyard, your playground,
    your safe haven of love and joy.

    We admire cribs and bassinets,
    we feel creamy infant clothing smoothing it with our fingers,
    an ambrosia of white and pink and blue, so soft and dear.
    Inebriated, we bring home a cuddly bear.

    In the rocking chair, expecting you, I imagine how I will cherish you.
    I will sing you all the songs I know, you are my sunshine.
    I embrace your brown bear and imagine it is you;
    my heart is full.

    Each day I long to feel you moving,
    I am Expectation!
    And each night your father talks to you,
    new love of his life.

    We speak a new language of parents,
    Papa, Mama, son, daughter.
    How delicious they have become, laden with you.

    You are swimming inside of me,
    becoming all the things a child needs to be born.
    Growing fingers and toes, a kind heart,
    eyes that might be blue or brown or hazel,
    a mouth to suckle with, to smile with, to cry with,
    made for kisses,
    arms to hug.

    I bleed and cramp and too soon you are gone.
    It took a day, a week, a few weeks, maybe your whole lifetime,
    for your tiny sweet body to decide it cannot stay with us.
    You fly away from us like a soaring bird;
    caught in the wind’s currents, you cross the ocean,
    circle the earth and leave us here to grieve.

    Oh, how we love you!
    We want you so badly, every moment, every day.
    Where there should be you, there is only a vast emptiness.

    We have given you a name because you are our child.
    You are the apple of your Daddy’s eye,
    the center of your Mommy’s heart,
    the place where love starts,
    the baby makes three of our dreams.

    I watch the children at the park.
    I can almost see you running with them, climbing the jungle gym,
    slipping down the yellow slide, giggling with glee.

    I am a mother, too;
    I want to tell those mothers across the playground.
    You can’t see my child, but I can.
    He is here in my arms, my empty arms
    that ache to hold him close to my heart.

    Cuddling your bear, snuggling him to my breast,
    I look at the brilliant stars and imagine you are one of them.
    Looking down on us, you shine so brightly.
    Twinkling starlight, you carry our hearts.

    Come visit me at night,
    I will look for you in my dreams.
    You can wear blue jeans and a red plaid shirt, and run barefoot through the grass.
    I will tell you stories about your family and the parents who love you.
    Bring me your worries and fears,
    your hopes and triumphs, and I will listen.
    I will hold you in my arms and comfort you.
    I will love you always, for you are my dear son, my darling, my child.

    © Kit Minden

    image by Dominic Winkel, Pixabay

    Kit Minden
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