She turned toward her purpose.
She wanted to have children, a family, a career.
She was full of joy as twin fetuses grew in her womb.
They decided to come early at 26 weeks.
The girl weighed a pound and a half with sepsis.
The boy was a fragile two pounds.
She feared her dream and her babies would die.
She fiercely faced the terrifying probabilities.
She turned toward what she needed to do.
Title: Hydro-Acoustic Study at Sphæræ/ Paul Prudence (UK) | Credit: tom mesic | Source: Ars Electronica | License: CC BY-NC-ND
She tuned into what was going on inside her.
She tuned into her babies’ needs.
She tuned into the NICU environment.
She paid attention to every gram of weight gain.
She observed the machines monitoring every beat and blip.
She listened to the fighting spirit of her warrior children.
She responded to every glimpse of life and growth.
She pumped.
She held.
She touched.
She sang to their souls.
She read her own feelings:
Deep terror that death could end her dream.
She read her own thoughts:
What if all the best medical care was not enough.
She read every cry and movement as hope –
They were still fighting for life.
She read every article on chances for survival.
She cared for them physically.
She nurtured them emotionally.
She stimulated them mentally.
She prayed for their spirits.
She watched her babies grow—
A gram at a time.
She sensed her own soul grow—
A challenge at a time.
She experienced her heart grow with every touch.
She watched her mind expand with every insight.
Her whole family grew as they rallied together.
Her babies bloomed through loving kindness.
Her heart bloomed with joy as they grew strong.
Her mind bloomed with possibilities.
Her soul bloomed with grace.
She reached out to friends for support.
She reached out to nurses for help.
She reached out to family for love.
She reached out to the babies for bonding.
She greeted every other NICU mother with kindness.
She greeted each new day with hope.
She greeted the babies with love.
She greeted each new gram with gratitude.
She joined a group of Preemie mothers.
She joined with the nurses to provide constant attention.
She joined her family for continuous care.
She joined with her husband in appreciation.
She shared her joys and concerns.
She shared her hopes and fears.
She shared her anger and depression.
She shared her love and compassion.
She spoke to parents with similar concerns.
She spoke to friends of trials and tribulations.
She spoke to family about the challenges ahead.
She spoke to Doctors about what to expect.
She now glows with pride as the babies grow.
She glows with joy as they continue to thrive.
She glows with love as they dance through life.
She glows with hope as possibilities unfold.
She found the only way out was through.
She faced every problem with courage.
She found the strength to carry on.
She refused to let fear defeat her.
Somehow, against all odds, she persevered.
Somehow, with all the pain, she believed.
Somehow, with all the help, she managed.
Somehow, with all the fears, she fiercely faced them down
Somehow, with incredible grace, she radiates.
Thank you again for an amazing post. I am the caretaker for my husband who has dementia. It’s in the earlier stages, yet some days seem impossible already, especially since we know there is no cure. Your poem has helped to center me again after a few days of raging against the dying of the light. That doesn’t do anything except make me feel ill. We have to keep stepping up to the plate.
So sorry to hear about your husband. Dementia is the cruelest of diseases. Sometimes we find ourselves in battles we never anticipated or wanted. I just saw the movie Lucky in which the old character says life may end but love never does. All we can do is love our way through. My thoughts are with you.
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Beautifully done Ricky-thank you! RonnyDonny
Beautiful description of your family’s journey and hope!
Thank you again for an amazing post. I am the caretaker for my husband who has dementia. It’s in the earlier stages, yet some days seem impossible already, especially since we know there is no cure. Your poem has helped to center me again after a few days of raging against the dying of the light. That doesn’t do anything except make me feel ill. We have to keep stepping up to the plate.
So sorry to hear about your husband. Dementia is the cruelest of diseases. Sometimes we find ourselves in battles we never anticipated or wanted. I just saw the movie Lucky in which the old character says life may end but love never does. All we can do is love our way through. My thoughts are with you.