Their words are meant to comfort, but they mock me and they sting. These are the thougths such words bring ...
My child is breathing, but I cannot hear it
My child is breathing, but I cannot see rhythmic movement of his chest
My child is laughing, but I cannot hear the sound
My child is laughing, but I cannot see the smile
My child is sleeping, but I cannot hear the sweet silence
My child is sleeping, but I cannot see the angelic look on his face
My child is learning, but I cannot hear what subject is his favorite
My child is learning, but I cannot see teacher comments or his grades
My child is eating, but I cannot hear the crunching and munching
My child is eating, but I cannot see how much food he crams in with just one bite
My child is singing, but I cannot hear the music
My child is singing, but I cannot see if his foot's tapping to the beat
My child is running, but I cannot hear the cheers of the crowd
My child is running, but I cannot see the strength and determination in each stride
My child is building, but I cannot hear if he talks to himself while he does
My child is building, but I cannot see if he likes the finished robot in the end
My child is writing, but I cannot hear if he shares his written words aloud
My child is writing, but I cannot see the stories through a pen he has told
My child is growing, but I cannot hear the change in his voice
My child is growing, but I cannot see each year for myself just how much
My child is maturing, but I cannot hear if there is a rage with in
My child is maturing, but I cannot see - just how much harm I may have done to him.
My child is ‘out there.' He is somewhere, and yes he is alive.
But this being separated; oh, how every day my heart just cries!
My child is breathing, but I cannot see rhythmic movement of his chest
My child is laughing, but I cannot hear the sound
My child is laughing, but I cannot see the smile
My child is sleeping, but I cannot hear the sweet silence
My child is sleeping, but I cannot see the angelic look on his face
My child is learning, but I cannot hear what subject is his favorite
My child is learning, but I cannot see teacher comments or his grades
My child is eating, but I cannot hear the crunching and munching
My child is eating, but I cannot see how much food he crams in with just one bite
My child is singing, but I cannot hear the music
My child is singing, but I cannot see if his foot's tapping to the beat
My child is running, but I cannot hear the cheers of the crowd
My child is running, but I cannot see the strength and determination in each stride
My child is building, but I cannot hear if he talks to himself while he does
My child is building, but I cannot see if he likes the finished robot in the end
My child is writing, but I cannot hear if he shares his written words aloud
My child is writing, but I cannot see the stories through a pen he has told
My child is growing, but I cannot hear the change in his voice
My child is growing, but I cannot see each year for myself just how much
My child is maturing, but I cannot hear if there is a rage with in
My child is maturing, but I cannot see - just how much harm I may have done to him.
My child is ‘out there.' He is somewhere, and yes he is alive.
But this being separated; oh, how every day my heart just cries!
my child is breathing
My child was breathing, living, learning and lost to us for 18 and a half years. Then he came back and we revelled in his breathing, living and learning, entralled by listening to his voice on the phone, joy at sitting beside him on the sofa, enjoying warm sand and sea water with him. And now 14 months later, he is lost to us yet again. And knowing our child is out there breathing, and living and learning without us once again, is even more difficult than the first 18 and a half years.
ReplyDeleteThe heartache of adoption just never, ever ends.
Denise
I saw a poster for a missing child this evening.And I told my husband that if the child will return alive, that I'd rather he'd never disappeared at all, than for the mother to go through even one night of wondering where he is, how he is...I told him that sometimes I think death is preferable to having a loss.The torture of NEVER being reunited with a child must surely be worse than if that child had died in the womb/at birth. (Especially in such a coerced adoption situation) Not to minimise the pain caused by death, but (in my very ignorant brain) at least one knows that everything possible was done to save that child.The pain will never go, but the other feelings that come with adoption , including the pain, are sometimes worse.(IMO of course.I haven't had experience in any of these situations.I'm just a mom of 2)And I'm probably expressing myself badly.
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