Wildflower

Newborn.


She was lovely so lovely. 

Her black hair fell straight 

Across her forehead. 

She was strong. So strong 

Her head raised steady off my shoulder.

She was feisty. So feisty.

Her bright eyes showed intense intelligence.

She was tiny. So tiny. 

She fit perfectly in his forearm.

So suddenly, and yet so gradually, things changed. 

Her eyes became clouded by seizure.

Her head dropped to her chest.

Her tiny feet did not straighten

And her smiles were infrequent. 

We cried and prayed and bounced 

Her wailing little self though the days and nights.

A mouse ran across the bedroom floor

Late one night.

And I closed my eyes, and pretended I didn’t see it.

Because I was tired. And my baby took up 

All my brain space.

The heart hurts when life changes your child.

When chromosomes stick and genetics happen. 

When Doctors have no answers and Heaven is silent.

When your child chokes and drools and seizes.

When hospital beds become comfortable. 

When Enya becomes a lifeline of music to calm the restlessness.

When you lose so much sleep, that you can’t sleep.

When life has question marks stamped all over it.

When Goodbye is the hardest word to say. 

Three years later, I thank God for allowing the pain and hard to slowly 

Morph smaller then the joy. 

The beauty of blue eyes. 

The snuggles and giggles and hand clasps.

The Kierra head turns and coos. 

My body will never forget,

But the edges of hurt are softened. 

The slash of pain less raw. 

Because while I miss her wildly….

The wonder of HER, our Wildflower Child,

 holds the trump card.

And that is enough. 

That I got to hold her. 

Kiss her. 

Love her.

 Be her Mommy.

It’s what will have to be enough. 

Until I reach Heaven. 

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