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Little Verses
Although you can't be here with me,
We're truly not apart,
Until the final breath I take,
You'll be living in my heart.
Loved with a love beyond all telling,
Missed with a grief beyond all tears,
To the world she was just one,
To us she was all the world
They say memories are golden,
Well, maybe that is true,
But we never wanted memories,
We only wanted you
There is a family who misses you
And finds time long since you went.
We think of you daily and hourly,
But try to be brave and content.
Tears that we shed are in silence,
And we breath a sigh of regret,
For you were ours, and we remember,
Though all the world forget
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A Mother's Day Wish from Heaven
I am writing to you from heaven, and though it must appear
A rather strange idea, I see everything from here.
I just popped in to visit, your stores to find a card
A card of love for my mother, as this day for her is hard.
There must be some mistake I thought, every card you could imagine
Except I could not find a card, from a child who lives in heaven.
She is still a mother too, no matter where I reside
I had to leave, she understands, but oh the tears she’s cried.
I thought that if I wrote you, that you would come to know
That though I live in heaven now, I still love my mother so.
She talks with me, and dreams with me; we still share laughter too,
Memories our way of speaking now, would you see what you could do?
My mother carries me in her heart, her tears she hides from sight.
She writes poems to honour me, sometimes far into the night
She plants flowers in my garden, there my living memory dwells
She writes to other grieving parents, trying to ease their pain as well.
So you see Mr. Hallmark, though I no longer live on earth
I must find a way, to remind her of her wondrous worth
She needs to be honoured, and remembered too
Just as the children of earth will do.
Thank you Mr. Hallmark, I know you’ll do your best
I have done all I can do; to you I’ll leave the rest.
Find a way to tell her, how much she means to me
Until I can do it for myself, when she joins me in eternity.
Jody Seilheimer
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Still Born.
I carried you in hope,
the long 9 months of my term,
remember that close hour when we made you,
often felt you kick and move,
as slowly you grew within me,
wondered what you would look like,
when your wet head emerged,
girl or boy, and at what glad moment,
I should hear your birth cry,
and I welcoming you,
with all you needed of warmth and food,
we had a home waiting for you,
and after all my strong labourings,
sweat cold on my limbs,
my small cries merging with the winter air,
you came, you did not cry,
you did not breathe,
we had not expected this;
it seemed your birth had no meaning,
or had you rejected us?
they will say you did not live,
register you as a stillborn,
but you lived for me all that time
in the dark chamber of my womb,
and when I think of you now,
perfect in your little death,
I know that for me you are born still;
I shall carry you with me forever,
my child, you were always mine,
and you are mine now,
death and life are the same mysteries.
Leonard Clark
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There's Nothing Left To Say
"It's time to stop grieving" is what they all say.
Really, tell me, where's your child today?
Maybe laughing, maybe sleeping, or learning to walk?
Perhaps crawling, sitting, or learning to talk?
You tell me it's over, it's time to let go.
Your child lives here, I buried mine, what do you know?
I'm glad your child is well, please don't get me wrong.
I'm hurting so much. I can't breath, I try to stay strong.
I want a hug, a prayer, maybe just mention his name.
The life I once knew is over, nothing will stay the same.
I start to cry and you quickly turn away.
Your silence says it all, there's nothing left to say.
~author unknown~
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Christmas Time.
It's Christmas time again but something’s very wrong.
I miss my babies, they died, they're gone.
No sounds of noisy toys fill the quiet air.
Happy babies, proud parents, surround me everywhere.
I smile, I try to be happy for those I deeply love,
but all I can think of are my babies above.
I wonder what they're doing, do they see us from afar?
Are they sliding down rainbows or swinging from a star?
They know mommy loves them, this I know is true.
I just want this Christmas to hold them like other parents do.
I need them here so very much to make this Christmas real.
My beautiful babies...I miss you all, always have, always will.
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Our Experience
Babies dying, women crying.
We may never know why, our babies had to die.
We meet everyday, and listen to what others have to say.
"Meet our new mum" is on my screen,
I try to wake up, but it's not a dream.
Other people who know how I feel,
who tell me, I will never heal.
I know this is true, since it has happened to you.
We all have our stories,
but in them there is little glory.
I try to help the other mothers out,
because I know what their pain is about.
As I too come here to shout and scream,
I find a place where I can lean.
Women who know what I'm going through,
and if your baby died, then so do you.
We find the strength to try again,
often a long road we will begin.
When we're in heaven we will know why,
our precious babies had to die.
Until then, I will come here everyday.
For all of us, all we can do is pray!
Author: Jessica Shumate
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A Gift For Fathers Day.
A gift for you on Fathers Day,
What on earth could it be?
I know the gift you really want,
Is to once again, have me.
Or perhaps the gift of understanding,
To make sense of a senseless loss.
I'm sorry, my dearest Daddy,
But for those gifts, you must talk to the boss.
The gifts that I can give today,
Are memories, both sad and sweet.
From the touch of your hand on Mummy's tummy,
To my tiny little feet.
Remember the joy you felt inside,
When you found out you would be my Daddy?
The great big smiles upon your face,
You were over the moon, you were so happy.
Remember when you felt me move,
The wonder and love you'd feel?
Remember it today Daddy,
It just might help you heal.
Remember the little cuddles we had,
And the moments that we shared.
Remember my little nose,
And the colour of my hair,
I love you dearest Daddy, you know that this is true.
Just keep your memories of me alive,
And I will always live in you.
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Don't....
Don't tell me that you understand
Don't tell me that you know,
Don't tell me that I will survive
Or how I will surely grow.
Don't tell me that this is just a test
That I am truly blessed
That I am chosen for this task
Apart from all the rest.
Don't come at me with answers
That can only come from me,
Don't tell me how my grief will pass
That I will soon be free,
Don't stand in pious judgement
Of the bounds I must untie,
Don't tell me how to suffer
And don't tell me how to cry!
My life is filled with selfishness,
My pain is all I see,
But, I need you now,
I need your love, unconditionally.
Accept me in my ups and downs,
I need someone to share,
Just hold my hand and let me cry,
And say "My friend, I care".
- by Joanetta Hendel
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The Club.
We are all members of a very exclusive club. We
had been only vaguely
aware of its existence, and we thought that
surely a chapter in a city
the size of ours wouldn't have many members.
We had seen a few people who belonged to the
club, but we didn't seem to
have anything in common with them, so we didn't
really get to know them.
Occasionally, we read stories in the newspaper
about new members being
initiated into the club, but it didn't seem
likely that we would ever be
eligible to join, so we paid no attention.
The price of membership is so dear that we
couldn't imagine being a part
of the club. We must have realized in the backs
of our minds that people
didn't choose to join and pay the dues--it was
done for them somehow. In
fact, no one really has any idea of how members
are selected. There are
a lot of theories; but much of the time, the
theories come from
non-members who don't understand much about the
situation.
The "club" we are now in (although it is not an
organized group), is
known as "bereaved parents." The cost of our
membership was the life of
our children; and we, like all other members,
have no idea why we were
selected for membership.
No one wants to be in this club. Even now, months
afterward, inside our
hearts and minds we continue to fight membership,
but there is no
resigning from it. It is an automatic lifetime
membership. There was no
way to avoid it--we did the best we could to keep
our children safe, only
to have them die. Though we lay awake night after
night, and think of it day
after day, there is no answer as to why we have
been thrust into this
select group. We hate it and we cry out in
protest, but there is no way
to change it.
We have learned a lot since our membership began.
We now understand much
about the other members. In fact, we seek to be
with them, to have
regular get-togethers, to discuss our membership,
and try to understand
its value.
Sometimes, those outside the club are afraid of
us, fearing that if they
come near us or talk with us, they will be
selected to become members
too! Acquaintances often try to ignore the
membership, pretending that
it doesn't exist. They seem to think that will
make things easier, and
then the members won't feel "different," but it
really only makes things
much worse.
So many times, we have wanted someone to say
hello or to tell us they
have been thinking of us or to mention something
about the absent child
who still lives inside us and overshadows all our
thoughts. We have
heard people say, "I don't want to upset her, or
remind her of her baby,
or say something that will make her cry."
We want to tell them: "The only way you can make
me feel worse than I
already do is to pretend that it doesn't exist or
that it isn't as deep
and painful as you surely know it is.
"Have you ever experienced the feeling of having
one terrible incident go
through your mind, day after day, week after
week, month after month,
wondering why it happened and how you could have
prevented it? Well,
don't worry about reminding us of our children.
We are thinking about
them nearly twenty-four hours a day.
"Sure, sometimes our minds are temporarily
distracted--it would have to
be to function at all. But if you think there is
even one day that goes
by without our children’s death tearing up our
hearts, then you have no
idea what this club is all about.
"We appreciate your talking about our children,
or at least letting us
talk about them. They are a very large part of
our lives, and ignoring
them now will really hurt us. It makes us think
that you feel they are
no longer important because they are gone. It
hurts to think that
people don't want to think about them or remember
good things about
them, just because they have died.
"We understand that you don't want to say
anything that will make us
cry. That sounds kind, and we used to feel that
way too, but now we know
better. We’d rather the tears didn't come when
you talk to us because we
know they may scare you away, or at least make
you very uncomfortable.
But we've learned how useful and necessary they
are. If we go too long
without tears, our body builds up a terrible
pressure from the pain of
the grief. If you will allow us to cry in your
presence, perhaps we
won't have to cry alone, wondering if anyone else
remembers, or even
cares, about our loss.
"You can't know what will make us cry--sometimes
we don't know,
ourselves. Some days we stay dry-eyed through
nearly everything. Other
days, the slightest thing will start the
tears--things you could not
possibly imagine or anticipate. Not all the tears
are tears of sorrow.
Even in the midst of our anguish, We sometimes
cry tears of joy and
relief because you have reached out; because you
have confirmed that our
children were special; perhaps because you have
shared with us some
precious memory about them which we had not known
before.
"Please don't run away from us. Don't pretend
their death never
occurred, or even worse, that they never lived!
We still love them,
think of them, need to remember. Please share
with us and we will all
feel better.
"We are learning that God is not punishing us. He
did not cause the
death of our children. But, He can help us to
grow through this
experience--to become stronger and wiser and more
caring, if we have
some help. Initially, when we were told that we
would change and grow
stronger through this experience, we wanted to
scream that if it meant
giving up our children, We didn't want to change
or get stronger. But we
know we have no choice about that now--they are
gone. Now our choices
are to either let God, and friends, help us to
become better; or we can
choose to allow this grief to destroy us."
We have to experience the grief. We can't pretend
it doesn't hurt, or
hurry it along. That's what membership in this
club is teaching us. We
are choosing to allow God to take an unspeakable
experience and use it
to start life again...in a new and better way.
Author Karen Grover
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The Anticipated Celebration
by Vera Byer
An acorn fell from the tree
Landed with a plop onto the ground
And settled there prepared to grow.
A squirrel, storing food for the winter
Grabbing the acorn with his paws,
Hastily scampered away to his nest -
A tree that almost was.
Snowflakes falling to the ground,
Gathering together upon the mountain;
A blanket of white, prepared for spring.
Parched earth, dry for lack of rain,
Awaits the rapidly melting snow
And drinks heartily, consuming all -
A stream that almost was.
A pencil, paper with lines,
With notes partially filling the page,
Words written down, prepared for singing
A tune, a psalm of praise
Floating inside an old saints' head;
Work calls to him, and time flies -
A hymn that almost was.
New life growing within;
Heart, limbs and identity developing,
Legs and arms moving, prepared for living.
Happy parents anticipating the future,
Their hearts and home making ready
And God calls home the little soul -
A child that almost was.
Someday in the realms of glory
I shall celebrate.
I shall sit under the tree that almost was;
Beside the stream that almost was;
Sing the hymn that almost was;
And hold in my arms
The child who almost was.
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