Will Anyone Ever Call Me Mommy?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and bring me flowers in their chubby hand?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and show me castles made of sand?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and bring me pictures from Sunday School?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and say "I love you mom, you're cool."?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and invite me to pretend tea?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and want me to kiss a scraped knee?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and ask me advice about boys?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and I'll say "Turn down that noise!"?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and turn 16 and wreck the car?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and write to me from college far?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
I'll be so proud at graduation.
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and look at me with admiration?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and bring me grandkids to love and hold?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and take care of me when I'm old?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
and think about me when I'm gone?
Will anyone ever call me Mommy
before it all is said and done?
written by Tina M.
Forever Changed
Can you see the change in me?
You tell me you admire me strength
You tell me you're glad to see I'm "over"
At times I think I am beginning to heal.
~Author Unknown
What Makes A Mother?
I thought of you and closed my eyes
"A Mother has a baby"
"Yes, you can," He replied
Some I send for a lifetime,
"I just don't understand this, God,
"I wish that I could show you,
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
I feel so lucky to have a Mom
I miss my Mommy oh so much
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
"So you see, my dear sweet ones,
They'll wait for you with Me,
So now you see what makes a Mother,
Though some on earth may not realize,
~Author Unknown
I think of you often, my angel, my dear
Why would a life be given...then, not?
I think of you often, my angel, my dear
© ~Lori Schofield
The Mask
I feel as if I am buried alive
Dear Cheyenne © 1996 revised 1998 by Joanne
Cacciatore
Poetry on Infant Loss ~ Page 2
Poetry on Infant Loss ~ Page 3
It may not seem so obvious to you.
I participate in family activities.
I attend family reunions.
I can plan family holidays.
You tell me you are glad to see
that I don't cry anymore.
But I do cry!
When everyone has gone,
when it is safe the tears fall.
I cry in privacy so my family doesn't worry.
I cry until I'm exhausted and I can finally sleep.
and my positive attitude.
But I am not strong.
I feel that I have lost control;
and I panic when I think about tomorrow...
next week... next year.
I go about the routine of my job.
I do what I have to do, and I even smile.
the death of my loved one.
But I'm not "over" it.
If I get over it I will be the same
as before my loved one died.
I will never be the same.
But the pain of losing someone I loved so much
has left a permanent scar on my heart.
I visit my neighbors.
You tell me that you're glad to see I'm holding up so well.
Sometimes I want to lock the door and hide from the world.
I spend time with friends.
I seem calm and collected.
I smile when appropriate.
You tell me its good to see me back to "my old self."
But I will never be back to "my old self"
Death and grief have touched my life
and I am forever changed.
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
And others for the day,
And some I send to feel your womb
But there's no need to stay."
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
What your child is doing today
If you could see your child's smile
With all the other children and say...
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay.
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy, don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'
Your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
They'll be at the gates for you.
Its the feeling in your heart
Its the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.
You are a Mother until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
And know that you are the best one!"
Why God would take you; not leave you here?
Why would He take you...what were His thoughts?
Would I give my life for you, so you could've stayed?
Not much cause to wonder; that decision was made.
My life is different, having known you and loved.
So very much different with you now above.
I so wanted to love you, to just watch you sleep.
Sadly, that's now a permanent memory I keep.
I know you are at peace and your life is good.
Its me that is struggling...
If only's...what would...
Would I have been a good mother to you here on earth?
Because I was your mother, long before birth.
But I guess that is something I can always be sure of.
I loved you as I carried you; so very much love.
Even though you are not in my arms,
you are in my soul...in my heart.
God has chosen for us separate worlds
but we will never really be apart.
and lately...just lately...not always with tears.
Yet I smile, and respond
"Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriately conditioned
No one wants to hear the painful t r u t h.
An essential part of me, my limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle
Pretending to be a player of the words
That have no m e a n i n g.
My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted
No explanation ~No apologies
Only cataclysmic p a i n
Only agony
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Yet I wear the m a s k
Day to Day.
Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner here
They speak an alien language
I attempt to translate the words
Still, they mean nothing to me.
Sequestered in the mask
They hear not the music I dance to
Nor the words I speak
Nor the pain I echo
Nor the native language of my e y e s
They will never really know me,
It's only a mask. 
