I'll Need You Most by Adrienne Kimbrell

When I hold my baby and say good-bye,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When my milk comes in and there is no baby,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When my arms ache but there is no baby to hold,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When I feel a flutter where the baby used to be,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When the food, flowers, cards and plants stop coming,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When the visitors stop coming to the house and the phone is silent,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When the sun goes down and the silence sets in,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When my baby’s monthly and yearly birthdays are here,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When special occasions, anniversaries or Holidays arrive,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

As the years go by and I continue to long for and miss my child,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

When it feels as if I’m the only one who remembers,

that’s when I’ll need you most.

So Fragile by Jennifer Kenemer

So Fragile

Life … so fragile.

Loss … so sudden.

Heart … so broken

In the wake of such a loss,

we’re haunted by things we

don’t, and may never understand.

Yet the solace we seek may not

come from answers, so we

look for comfort in the

belief of love’s everlasting connection.

May that love lift you,

hold you close and

give you peace.

by Jennifer Kenemer, Avery’s “Aunt Jen”

Thoughts on Becoming a Mother

Thoughts on Becoming a Mother

There are women that become mothers without effort,

without thought, without patience or loss

and though they are good mothers and love their children,

I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books,

but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.

I have longed and waited.

I have cried and prayed.

I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation

are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my child.

I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. 

I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him

and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill,

take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream.

My dream will be crying for me.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. 

I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister

because I have known pain.

So now, when others hurt around me,

I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. 

I see it, mourn it and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. 

I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine,

of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth

and when life is beyond hard. 

I have learned compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.

Author Unknown

These are my footprints

These are my footprints
so perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints,
Never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint,
For now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints were meant,
For other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints,
In the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
Of joy and not from pain.
You will see my tiny footprints,
In each butterflies' lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you
if you just give me a chance.
You will see my tiny footprints
in the rustle of the leaves.
I will whisper names into the wind
and call each one that grieves.
Most of all, these tiny footprints
Are found on mummy's heart.
'Cause even though I'm gone now
we'll NEVER truly part

There She Goes Again by Kaye Des'Ormeaux

Oh, there she goes again!
Mom is just staring
At my photograph.
While I wish she could
Hear my voice;
She wishes she could
Hear me laugh.
Her heart goes to a place
Too many other
Mothers have been.
Somewhere a heart repairs.
Oh, there she goes again.

Another night up until dawn.
She watches the sun rise;
While she longs to feel my touch,
I long for her to know who
Dries her teary eyes.
I've heard my Mom say
Her world stands still.
But really it's in a spin.
Oh, I know how she feels.
But, there she goes again.

Oh there she goes again.
My Mom holds my photograph.
While she longs to hear my voice ...
I long to hear her laugh.
And though her heart is broken,
Her smile is like back when.
My Mom appears to Mothers
As a fighter like no other.
Oh there's nothing like her grin.
There's no one like you, Mom.
Oh, there she goes again.
Oh yes, she holds my photograph
And longs to hear my laughter.
I calm the fear of a heart within ...
And will do so each day hereafter!
Oh but, there she goes again.

The Busiest Day in Heaven

It's the busiest day in Heaven
I'm planning a big surprise
To let you know I love you
And that no one ever dies.
Even though you're down below
And I am up above,
I'm sending you these wishes
And all my angel love.
It's really quite exciting
To plan this big event,
For lots of gifts will come your way
And all are heaven sent.
First, I'll take a bubble bath-
My splashes might cause some rain,
But knowing all the fun I'm having,
Will help to ease your pain.
Next, I'll get some pictures
In my halo and my gown,
So when you get to Heaven,
You can show them all around.
I have color crayons in Heaven,
And I will draw some stars so bright
And place them in the sky today
For you to see tonight.

Then, Jesus will have story time,
And I will sit upon his lap.
He'll tell me all about you
Just before I nap.
I'll wake up full of ener gy
And play a game or two,
Before I finish sending
All my love to you.
After snack I'll write a song
For all the birds to sing,
And know I've made you happy
With all the joy it brings.
At nighttime I'll be tired,
But I'll still hold you tight.
My arms will wrap around you
And keep you through the night.
And when you finally slumber,
I will kneel to pray,
Asking God to bless you
On this special Mother's Day.
Love, Your Little Angel
_unknown

There is a Gift

There is a Gift

In the scrapbooks and memory pages of the mind

Thoughts of you have formed a cherished and unforgettable image.

In remembering you, there is a gift.

The tears fall at times we least expect

No amount of time, space or new experience will ever replace you.

In shedding tears, there is a gift.

Glimpses of you are caught

In waking mind, moments before dreams melt into daily reality.

In cherished connection, there is a gift.

The deepest longings of the heart

Escape into the night air, acknowledged by a gleaming star.

In quiet reflection, there is a gift.

Other eyes are moist with tears,

Other arms reach out to help and other voices encourage us.

In sharing grief, there is a gift.

Life has challenging lessons,

Love is stronger than anything; love is stronger than death.

In learning this, there is a gift.

In your life, in your own living, there is a gift.

The Empty Womb by Jill Lemming

 

I carried you so lovingly,

within my gentle womb…

and little did I realize,

your life would end too soon.

I never got the chance to say

“I love you, little one”…

before I held you in my arms,

your life on earth was done.

The grief is indescribable

to lose a child this way…

all the many hopes and dreams,

just vanished on that day.

I know I’ll see the sun shine bright

upon my baby’s face…

when I finally get to heaven,

all my pain will be erased.

We’ll soar the skies together,

as angels two by two…

we’ll have a sweet reunion

a mother’s dream come true.

The Dance of Grief by Robert A. Kidd

The Dance of Grief

I dance the dance of grief.
I am not attractive; I am not at my best.
I may step on your toes.
But I cannot help that.
I must dance the dance of grief.
And I am slow. Very slow.
You may wish I would speed up.
I wish to G-d that I could,
But no, I cannot.
I must dance the dance of grief.
My dance is not graceful in its slowness,
But torturous.
The dance overcomes me sometimes and nearly rips me apart.
The slowness almost kills me,
Draining me bit
By
Bit,
Leaving me a ghost.
Be my partner.
Let me lead.
Bow when I bow,
Turn when I turn,
Stop when I stop.
Move with me around the perimeter of the dance floor.
See with me the noisy spectators,
Those who say they want to be my partner
But cannot be,
Will not be.
I will not choose them for this dance.
They want this dance to be quick, efficient, romantic,
Somehow fulfilling their expectations.
But it cannot be that.
I cannot be that.
I must dance the dance of grief
And it is slow. Very slow.
In my way, I am regal as I dance this dance.
I hold my head up; wrap the black veil over my shoulders
And lead off.
Can you follow me? Will you?
Bow with me,
Turn with me,
Walk this leaden promenade with me?
But when the time comes…and only when…
Remind me that I did not invent this dance,
But have choreographed it to suit me.
Reassure me that I am dancing well.
Help me see that others have danced this dance before me,
Are dancing it now,
Will dance it later.
Much of this dance I know I must dance alone.
But for now, dance with me.
Hold me.
Be patient.
Dance with me until the music stops.
Believe me that I wish this dance was over.
But for now, I must dance the dance of grief.
And I am slow.
Be my partner.