the dead baby

the dead baby
happy birthday my love
last night i dreamed
our infant daughter
eight days old
died in my arms
she had my eyes
and your nose
we did everything we could
she was loved
warm in my arms
but we could not keep her
we wanted to give her the world
and had the announcements ready to send
‘God has her’ i said
and we did not cry
you held me
while i held her
wrapped in a white blanket
she was perfect
our angel
flown away
we could not find the words
to write her obituary
happy birthday


I don’t know if the birthday boy will ever read this or not. I’m debating even calling him to wish a happy birthday. It would be the kind thing to do but I am not sure that I should or if it would be appreciated. I have homework due and part of my heart still hurts. Forgiveness is more a choice than a feeling and my feelings might not ever catch up. He did and said some fairly hateful and thoroughly hurtful things. The poem is from a previous birthday. If you missed the previous post there wasn’t really a dead baby, it was a dream child. I suppose her imaginary birthday would be October 21.

Friend, love, you know who you are. Happy birthday. I may be as dead to you as the baby in my dreams was in my arms. I may still ache inside. But happy birthday and I love you. May God guide you and grant you peace.

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About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. My most recent completed endeavor was finishing BA's in Religious Studies and American Studies. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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