Sunday, October 16, 2011

Baby C

                 I listen.

Expecting it, waiting for it: bum-bum. bum-bum. bum-bum.

Giddy, remembering the first time I heard it from your brothers. It had blown me away.  A moment sealed in my memory.  Today I am more prepared. And I wait for it:
                 bum-bum. bum-bum.

As the wait lengthens, I remember words quickly spoken, last night before going to sleep. 
                 Said too lightly,  never believed.

The silence continues.

I wait.

Finally the pain comes.  I wish for more.  Enough to fill the gaping wound.  Enough to alert the world. 
Silence remains.

They tell me I will see you some day. 
I hear the cliche.  Does it comfort or confuse? 
                  I silence my questions.

Dear one, I'm sorry.
For my fear.
For my ambivalence.
For my silence:
                  Do not think it was shame. 
                  Do not think I did not love you enough to say your name. 

The sun rises. 
Your brothers ask for their morning milk and snuggles.  

And I will speak your name: Baby C


  1. I cried when I read this.
    I am still crying.
    Baby C. I love you, too, Baby C.

    So beautiful, dear sister.

    Remind me to tell you about what we did last weekend. I promise it relates, but I want to tell you in person or at least in private e-mail.

  2. Thank you. Thank you for sharing our grief in this, even while celebrating so much joy in the past year!