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A little poem

My sister has lost so many babies to stillbirth and my sister in law lost her angel last year at 24 weeks after only a few precious hours together.
People notice
There's a special glow around you.
You grow
Surrounded by love,
Never doubting you are wanted;
Only look at the pride and joy
In your mother and father's eyes.
And if sometimes
Between the smiles
There's a trace of tears,
One day
You'll understand.

You'll understand
There was once another child
A different child
Who was in their hopes and dreams.
That child will never outgrow the baby clothes
That child will never keep them up at night
In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.
Except sometimes, in a silent moment,
When mother and father miss so much
That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly
And may you learn the lesson forever
How infinitely precious
How infinitely fragile
Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman
You may see another mother's tears
Another father's silent grief
Then you, and you alone
Will understand
And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,
You will tell them
With great compassion,
"I know how you feel.
I'm only here
Because my mother tried again."

Replies

  • The Cord
    Terri Apostolakos

    We are connected, my child and I,
    by an invisible cord not seen by the eye.

    Its not like the cord that connects us at birth,
    This cord can't be seen by any on earth.

    This cord does its work right from the start,
    It binds us together, attached to my heart.

    I know that it's there though no one can see,
    This invisible cord, from my child to me.

    The strength of this cord, It's hard to describe.
    It can't be destroyed, It can't be denied.

    It's stronger then any cord man could create.
    It withstands the test, Can hold any weight.

    And though you are gone and your not here with me.
    The cord is still there, but no one can see.

    It pulls at my heart, I am bruised, I am sore.
    But this cord is my lifeline, as never before.

    I'm thankful that God connects us this way.
    A mother and child... Death can't take it away!
  • They are so sweet and so true. I love the one about trying again as thats what my partner and I did after loosing Gabriel and now we have two beautiful strong children.
  • Ive got a little poem too, well ive got loads on beaus site but this is one i really like, even though it makes me hate myself for wanting her back...

    Don't wake me I'm dreaming of wonderful things,
    Of castles, and kindoms and kittens with wings,
    Of teddy bears tumbling on magic moonbeams,
    Don't wake me I'm dreaming my sweet baby dreams.

    Another one...
    Precious angel sent to earth, did they tell you of your worth?
    More than diamonds, rubies or gold, only you do i want to hold.

    And last of all, its not a poem but it's from the film v for vendetta, the woman is in a cell facing certain death and she writes her life story and this on a piece of toilet paper and hides it in the crack in the wall...
    Even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you,
    I love you. With all my heart, I L O V E Y O U...
  • Another poem i really like, not sure about the lord bit but it sums stuff up a bit...

    Dear Lord,
    Before I give her up to you and place her in your loving arms,
    please let me smell her newborn smell and caress her silky baby fine hair.
    Before I give her up to you,
    please let me kiss that sweetest baby nose.
    Before I give her up to you,
    please let me snuggle her ice cold cheek next to mine and let the warmth of my face bring her back to life.
    Before I give her up to you,
    please let me feel the weight of her little body cradled in my arms. Before I give her up to you,
    please let me place her on my chest to feel my beating heart and imagine her taking a long baby nap that she will soon be waking from.
    Before I give her up to you,
    please let me whisper precious lullabies and "I love you's" in her ears.
    Before I give her up to you,
    let me take one long last look to last me all my life.
    And now I give her up to you....
    Please tell her that we love her so and to wait for us one day.


    By Melanie Ferris
  • Kay that last poem had me in so many tears. So sad...... so true.....xx
  •  I am Pandora Diane MacMillan* (formerly Waldron), author of the poem, "A Different Child" written on March 4, 1999, which no3bump has posted to your web site.  My poem was originally posted to the Canadian SPALS mailing list - Subsequent Pregnancy After a Loss -www.spals.com and follows the SPALS Guidelines regarding mutual support, tolerance and diversity. This poem was written to tell Madoka Marietta Rosalie about the sister, Rhiannon Roxane, she will never meet, and to tell her how much she is loved and wanted. It is dedicated to Madoka Marietta Rosalie Waldron, and to all children whose parents will always miss...A Different Child.   The poem also appears on FictionPress http://www.fictionpress.com/s/87202/1/A-Diffferent-Child. That copy of the poem states: "Dedicated to all who have lost a child and given birth to another much loved baby."

    I would appreciate it if your copy of the poem would credit me as the author and include my original dedication with its postscript:

    "------for Madoka Marietta Rosalie, from your mother,
    Pandora Diane Waldron*--------March 4, 1999.

    Remembering, with love, and not with sadness,
    our Special Angel, Rhiannon Roxane,
    who left this world 2 years ago today."
    There are some other errors in the re-posting of my poem which have occurred on some web sites:

    A Different Child is not just the title, it is the first line of the poem, as follows:

    "A different child,
    People notice
    There's a special glow around you."

    These lines refer to the new healthy baby who was born, not to the other different child, who passed away.  However, the phrase "a different child" also later on refers to the child who was lost:

     "A different child
    Who was in their hopes and dreams."

    In other words, in the historical manner of poetry, "a different child" has more than one meaning.   If my words can bring joy, hope or comfort to others, it is in this way that I continue to honour the legacy of Rhiannon Roxane. Let your child's memory be a living one, sharing the love you gave with others, and not a cold piece of stone.
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