I don't remember exactly where I found this, but I'm sure it was on
another heart baby's blog during a late night internet session. Being a mother of a "normal" baby and then a heart baby, this rings so true to me. I also think instead of mother it could be "parent" because I know Bryan hurts & hopes as much as I do.
What does it mean to be a mother?
It's that very
first moment
He's placed in your arms.
A wrinkled red face,
Filled with so many charms.
You can't help but cry,
(As a new mother knows)
You've been waiting so long,
Just to count all his toes.
Then visitors come,
Bearing gifts that are blue.
They laugh and snap pictures,
Saying, "He looks like you."
And in just a few days,
(Ahh... the joy and the fun)
You'll be on your way home,
With your beautiful son.
What is it like to be a heart mother?
Again, it's that moment,
You hold your child close,
And cry secret tears,
That a heart mother knows.
In just a few days,
Maybe less, maybe more,
You'll be letting him go,
Asking, what lies in store?
And as your child lays,
In a small isolette,
You think to yourself,
I must not get upset.
And as family arrives,
You try hard to stay strong,
But your tired eyes say,
That this all seems so wrong.
You know what is coming,
Though you're still not prepared.
He will leave your safe arms,
To have his heart repaired.
What does it mean to be a mother?
It is nights with no sleep,
It is feedings and spit up,
It is watching him roll,
And then finally sit up.
It is knowing this child,
Depends on you most,
It's those everyday milestones,
in which, you can boast.
And yes... there is crying,
(At times it's quite loud)
But when he says, "Mama"
He makes you so proud.
A heart mother...
Ahh...yes, little rest,
As the monitors beep,
And you begin to question,
Is there such thing as sleep?
You can't go home yet,
And your kids ask each day,
"Will we see you soon, Mommy?
Can you come home and play?"
"Real soon..." you promise,
"Yes...I miss you too",
And then people ask,
"How do you do what you do?"
And you stroke his forehead,
And his fist is unfurled,
And you know for this child,
You would give all the world.
A mother...
Time passes quickly,
Soon he's off to school,
And before you know it,
Hugs just aren't "cool",
He's a teenager now,
With dreams of his own,
And one day it hits you,
My child, has grown.
And though you are proud,
For all he's achieved,
Life passed more quickly,
Than you could have believed.
A heart mother...
You've always strived to live each day,
As if it were the last,
As the mother of a heart child,
You know things can change fast.
You've seen so many familes,
Endure things you can't understand,
And while you trust that God is good,
Sometimes you just don't understand.
But you go on, because you must,
God chose you for him, and no other,
You're stronger that you could imagine,
You have become a heart mother.
Every mother...
And every mother's journey,
Begins on that day when,
She knows with everything she is,
A mother, she has always been.
Crayon marks cover all the walls,
Muddy prints scatter the floor,
Toys and messes everywhere,
And yes... laundry galore.
I must have the best job that there is,
(Despite all the clutter and mess)
My children... they remind me,
Life shouldn't be such a stress.
Each and every day we have,
(To laugh, to hug, to play)
Is a memory I'll always have,
And nothing can take that away.
I wouldn't trade a moment,
Or all that they've taught me to see,
I'm blessed to be a mother,
It's more than I dreamed it could be.
~Stephanie Husted
He's placed in your arms.
A wrinkled red face,
Filled with so many charms.
You can't help but cry,
(As a new mother knows)
You've been waiting so long,
Just to count all his toes.
Then visitors come,
Bearing gifts that are blue.
They laugh and snap pictures,
Saying, "He looks like you."
And in just a few days,
(Ahh... the joy and the fun)
You'll be on your way home,
With your beautiful son.
What is it like to be a heart mother?
Again, it's that moment,
You hold your child close,
And cry secret tears,
That a heart mother knows.
In just a few days,
Maybe less, maybe more,
You'll be letting him go,
Asking, what lies in store?
And as your child lays,
In a small isolette,
You think to yourself,
I must not get upset.
And as family arrives,
You try hard to stay strong,
But your tired eyes say,
That this all seems so wrong.
You know what is coming,
Though you're still not prepared.
He will leave your safe arms,
To have his heart repaired.
What does it mean to be a mother?
It is nights with no sleep,
It is feedings and spit up,
It is watching him roll,
And then finally sit up.
It is knowing this child,
Depends on you most,
It's those everyday milestones,
in which, you can boast.
And yes... there is crying,
(At times it's quite loud)
But when he says, "Mama"
He makes you so proud.
A heart mother...
Ahh...yes, little rest,
As the monitors beep,
And you begin to question,
Is there such thing as sleep?
You can't go home yet,
And your kids ask each day,
"Will we see you soon, Mommy?
Can you come home and play?"
"Real soon..." you promise,
"Yes...I miss you too",
And then people ask,
"How do you do what you do?"
And you stroke his forehead,
And his fist is unfurled,
And you know for this child,
You would give all the world.
A mother...
Time passes quickly,
Soon he's off to school,
And before you know it,
Hugs just aren't "cool",
He's a teenager now,
With dreams of his own,
And one day it hits you,
My child, has grown.
And though you are proud,
For all he's achieved,
Life passed more quickly,
Than you could have believed.
A heart mother...
You've always strived to live each day,
As if it were the last,
As the mother of a heart child,
You know things can change fast.
You've seen so many familes,
Endure things you can't understand,
And while you trust that God is good,
Sometimes you just don't understand.
But you go on, because you must,
God chose you for him, and no other,
You're stronger that you could imagine,
You have become a heart mother.
Every mother...
And every mother's journey,
Begins on that day when,
She knows with everything she is,
A mother, she has always been.
Crayon marks cover all the walls,
Muddy prints scatter the floor,
Toys and messes everywhere,
And yes... laundry galore.
I must have the best job that there is,
(Despite all the clutter and mess)
My children... they remind me,
Life shouldn't be such a stress.
Each and every day we have,
(To laugh, to hug, to play)
Is a memory I'll always have,
And nothing can take that away.
I wouldn't trade a moment,
Or all that they've taught me to see,
I'm blessed to be a mother,
It's more than I dreamed it could be.
~Stephanie Husted
What a neat poem- and so true!
ReplyDelete