baby

How could something
That seems so...amazing
Turn into such a nightmare
the next time you blink?

Why could smoething so precious
be brought into the world
only to be given a short period of time
to live inside the womb
not to even be born,
but with just ten weeks inside the womb
not even being able to hear or see yet
your life was taken

I wish you could have stayed longer, little friend
so I could teach you as my fourth sibling
the ways of living
the rights and wrongs of living
the fun times and even those of torture
that come out of life
and then,
when you think all is lost
another little one,
comes to try to make things better.
but this time,
I'm real scared
not only for you, little child,
but for my family.
for me
for my mom
for my dad
for my two sisters
and my two-year-old little brother.
somethings just aren't meant to be endured more than once
but all I can do is pray and make sure that this child makes it safely
and that this one, is Ok.

but as the darkness washes over me
and I am surrounded by a sea of pain
I am numbed by the presence of my family
unaware of my surroundings
only sure of the reason why I cannot see
because my eyes are flooding
But I come to a point
the ten week mark, again,
to where I cannot cry any longer.

I'm still scared
for my mom is expecting another, little one
I pray to the Lord.
no matter how much doubt fills me,
no matter how much this will make me suffer
I want this one to live.

It is now past the ten week mark
And the baby
Is
Still
Living
but I still pray, that this one
Will not die,
but live

This baby, will be God's Olive branch
for the flood is over
and we should not be scared
we should come out of the ark.
where we grieve ,
and wait for the pain to stop.
the fight is over
The dove has come
with the branch
to assure us
that we will no longer be
At loss.
But with everything to gain
With God on our side.

Baby wants to
paint murals on the
tiles as she
waits,
but she knows she's all out of
paint,
and the blood from her
fingertips
would only leave
a mess.

He does not have
my long, reaching fingers,
he does not have
your deep,
searching eyes.

He is a machine with
a sound box and
a plastic,
flawless exterior.
His lips are frozen
in a tiny
smile.
He cries, but
he will never know
the taste
of tears.

Funny how reproduction works
these days,

I guess
we've moved on
from life.

Last night
I dreamed
of our maybe-child.

We named him Angel
because he
could fly,
even
without wings.

His deep, searching eyes
were yours,
his long fingers
were mine,

his energy
was ours.

I woke up,
and cried because
I could still feel
his tiny maybe-hand
curled around
my thumb.

I could still hear
his maybe-words
echoing as
he whispered
to us:

I held you tight so many nights
when there were those monsters in my closet

You were always my hero in the stories mommy told
and you would rescue me from the dragons

Do you remember when we were younger and got married
and my brother Billy talked for you?
But I swear your stiched smile moved when
I said "I do"

Do you remember when I was 12 and Brenna came over