It was a burp
that woke my baby
when he was sleepin’
inside his bed
I thought that bedtime
was all done now
until I heard
those piercing cries
It was burp
that woke my baby
and with tears
did fill his eyes
I should have burped him
after I nursed him
but I clean gone ‘n forgot
He was asleepin’
oh, oh, so peaceful
and I felt free as a bird
It was a burp
that burst my bubble
and made bedtime come once again
Oh, oh, here we go once again!
My first poetry book just arrived in the mail! It is dedicated in loving memory of my little daughter Josephine, whom I lost in labour almost two years ago. These poems chronicle my first year after her loss, my grief and love for my baby girl and also the hope I have of one day seeing her again.
Writing has been really therapeutic for me, and helped me give expression to the intense emotions that come with losing a little one. I want to share these poems with other families who have lost babies so that they would know that they are not alone…that others have experienced and survived such a loss.
I first thought of this project when talking to my friend Anne Schweitzer, who makes “Mother Mary Baskets” for bereaved moms. The baskets contain little comforts like bath salts, lip balm, chocolate, a fancy tea cup, etc as well as a few books on healing and hope after miscarriage. There are also special prayer cards, including one to your baby in Heaven. We thought it would be so nice to include some of my poems in the basket. Now I’ve been able to publish them in a little book, the kind you can carry in your purse and pull out to read in those quiet moments when you have time to release some of the sadness welling up inside.
Because my main goal is comforting other babyloss moms, every time a copy is sold, another will be donated to a bereaved family. I’d like to reach as many people as possible, so that instead of just an impersonal pamphlet from a hospital, bereaved moms could be given something special, something beautiful, something that honours their love and grief. I hope to donate copies to hospital chaplains, midwives, doctor’s offices, etc, as well as giving them to individual moms. It will be a thoughtful gift for people to give loved ones who lose a baby…something for them to give when they don’t know what to say themselves…
I want to thank my dear friend Rachel Lalonde, who really helped move this project along, taking care of all the technical details and keeping me on track. She also did the delicate rose photographs on the front and back covers which wrap my poems in beauty. I couldn’t have accomplished this without her! And also thank you to my brother Monti, who believed in the value of this little book so much he donated $100 towards the project when it was still just an idea. That very bill will soon be used to order copies to donate!
I’ll keep you posted once my book is available online via the publishing site Blurb, and in the mean time, for anyone near me who’d like a copy, be sure to let me know; when I do a bulk order I’ll be able to save you some shipping costs. It will be a joy to hand it to you!
I was just beginning to write this silly little poem earlier when the baby flung back his arm while nursing and hit “post” long before it was ready. Eek! Sorry for those who received this strange snippet in their inbox! Now that the kids have stopped parachuting off their bunkbeds or other similar gymnastic feats, I’ve been able to finish it. Voilá!
The amorous little gentleman
approached with an unabashed smile of delight
and pulling my hair towards him
took a generous chomp of my chin.
He is not at all shy
but perfectly clear
that it’s his utter to delight to bite me
—smooch here and here and here—
If he weren’t so sweet,
like a down covered peach,
perhaps I would try to struggle
but darling he is,
I simply give in
and chubby arms round my neck
give him a snuggle.
The most important question each day
is not so much how much we received
but how lovingly we gave all we could.
If we see things this way,
then each day hands us a blank cheque
on which to write the amount of our generosity,
the value of our loving work
offered as a gift to God
and to our fellow man.
How rich life is when we live to give!
If there’s a reason
I can understand
unconditional love,
it’s you, Dad.
If there’s a reason I feel
that anything is possible
it’s you, Dad.
If there’s a reason I know
that understanding and compassion
matter far more than
position or wealth,
it’s you, Dad.
If there’s a reason I know
that gentleness and self-sacrifice
are the signs of true strength
it’s you, Dad.
If there’s a reason I can understand
that God is our merciful Father
who delights in being with us
it’s you, Dad.
Thank you for a life of tenderness.
Thank you for always cheering me on
and protecting my heart.
You will always be my father,
and I’m so glad it’s you, Dad.
Do we realize our immense dignity
as children of God?
That we are
with the coals of divine love
burning in our souls
as walking tabernacles
of the Holy Spirit?
Every touch, every gesture
should be one of love
as done by one bearing an immense treasure,
a wealth of gleaming gold
inside a simple earthen vessel.
How then our work can be an act of worship
done in union with God within us
with the delicacy of one in love.
May we glow with this warmth
bringing affection to all we encounter
and the joy of being children of God
ever in His presence.
The alluring emptiness of a white page
free from clutter and electronic distraction,
the peacefulness of a smooth sheet
waiting for my words to gently rest on it…
Oh, how it calls me
in the midst of noise and business!
There, in the silent gaze of the white page,
my soul is free to unfurl its wings
and write with feathered quills
the thoughts that have distilled inside it.
Oh blessed quiet
in which to hear the silent whispers of my heart,
to set free the poems
that have been clinging to my fingertips
like small birds awaiting flight.
When you’re a busy mom of seven,
a quiet moment at the bus-stop
with no wifi
and only the baby
becomes rather more entrancing than it used to be…
Hey, I’ll take what I can get!
Holy Spirit,
You are like a velvet flame
enveloping me in Your warmth,
surrounding me with Your light
till even my insides glow
and the beating of my heart
is a pulsating brightness
emitting Your love.
Without You—
a burnt wick
a cracked and snappable thread
a lack of light
an emptiness.
Holy Spirit,
remember those days
almost 12 years ago now
when I was so excited
to receive You for the first time?
When I imagined You coming to
take up residence in me
the way a cat curls up cosy
on her master’s lap,
bringing warmth and comfort?
Thank You for being with me
guiding me
inspiring me
helping me
my true muse and soul’s friend.
May I always speak Your words
spread Your love
shed Your light
and bring the twinkle of Your beauty
into the world.
(Image from watch and pray blog)
How funny to see
So far from the sea
Such a sweet cluster
Of sea anemone!
I blow on your bare baby belly
and you chuckle those first precious laughs
as you cling to my hair.
My heart aches with bittersweet joy
for the giggles I never heard,
the solemn silence of your big sister,
born still.
Yet I am so relieved you are here safe—
that you are laughing and alive.
On an impulse,
I lay my ear on your warm little chest and listen:
“Badda -boom, badda-boom, badda-boom!”
Thank God, thank God, thank God! Goes your little drum.
I fight tears as your pull my hair with your chubby little hands
into your sweet, warm mouth. Thank God, thank God, thank God!
Just East Of Crazy Land 