Mother's Nod

Truckers have one, the horn toot. Streetcars/trolleys have one, ding ding.   Bickers have one, the lower hand wave.  Motorist driving the same vehicle even share one.  Boaters have one, the hand up. 
In all social circles there seems to be body language signal shared to acknowledge some form of commonality. 

Mothers perform a ritual to one another as they pass in the street, in the malls and at the checkout line.  The mothers will look into the baby carriage and look up at the other mother and smile.  These common nods occur many times a day from friendly mothers.  Many of these friendly mothers often stop and inquire or complement my baby.  As nice as it to stop and chat and be acknowledged into the circles of motherhood  it is another reminder how invisible I have been as a mother.  I know there are countless other invisible mother's out there and I want to take a minute to acknowledge you. 

The poem below was shared on Triplet Butterfly Wings' blog .

What makes a Mother


I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a Mother
And I know I heard him say.

A Mother has a baby
This we know is true.'
But God, can you be a Mother
When your baby's not with you?
Yes, you can, He replied
With confidence in His voice

I give many women babies
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime
And others for a day.
And some I send to feel your womb
But there's no need to stay.

I just don't understand this,
God I want my baby here
He took a breath and cleared His throat
And then I saw a tear.

I wish I could show you
What your child is doing today.

If you could see your child smile with other children and say:
"We go to earth to learn our lessons Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom
Who had so much love for me
I learned my lesson very quickly
My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much
But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep
On her pillow's where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek
And whisper in her ear.
"Mommy don't be sad today I'm your baby and I'm here."

So you see my dear sweet one
Your children are OK
Your babies are here in My home
And this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with Me
Until your lesson is through.
And on the day that you come home
They'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother
It's the feeling in your heart.
It's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.

-author unknown

Another Spring Snow

Last night/morning when we woke up the yard was covered in snow. These pretty white fluffy spring snows are seasonally out of place, just like the day we found out Harrison had passed away.  The snow fall opened up the large vault of grief that lives in me, it brought me back to that Monday morning when we woke up to snow thinking we would be delivering our son that day but instead we promptly made funeral plans.

That snowy Monday morning 13 months ago I drew a picture with a dry erase marker on our bathroom mirror.  Two stick figures representing Dh with our arms holding a chubby baby boy uniting us as a family.  That drawing is still on our mirror as it represents the family I dreamed of and I can't bare to erase it.  Each week it is slowly fading from the humidity in the bathroom and speckled with toothpaste and I can't figure out a way to preserve it or take picture of it because of the reflection of the mirror.  I feel if it went so would my connection with that day.... I love by baby girl to the heavens but I still wish I could turn time back to that morning deliver him safely and hold him in my arms forever.   No amount of physical pain could ever explain the pain of losing a child.

If roses grow in Heaven, Lord please pick a bunch for me,

place them in my Mother's arms and tell her they're from me,
Tell her I Love Her and Miss Her,
and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek and hold her for awhile....

My Mom is a Survivor

(author unknown)
My Mom is a survivor,

or so I've heard it said.
But I hear her crying at night
when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night
and go to hold her hand.

She doesn't know I'm with her
to help her understand

But like the sands on the beach
that never wash away...
I watch over my surviving mom,
who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...
a smile of disguise.

But through Heaven's door
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death
to keep my memory alive.

But anyone who knows her knows
it is her way to survive.

As I watch over my surviving mom..
through Heaven's open door,
I try to tell her that angels
protect me forever more

But I know that doesn't help her
or ease the burden she bears.

So if you get a chance, go visit her...
And show her that you care.

For no matter what she says..
no matter what she feels.

My surviving mom has a broken heart
that time won't ever heal!

These are My Footprints

This was posted on a mommy friend's blog that was shared with her by another grieving mommy.  It was so touching I needed share it and keep it close.

I am still navigating the world of blog and will need to learn how to ask and share resources.
_____________________________________
These are My Footprints

 "These are my footprints, so perfect and so small. These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.


Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings. These tiny footprints were meant for other things.

 You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain. Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.

 You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies' lazy dance. I'll let you know I'm with you, if you give me just a chance.


You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves. I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.

 Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mummy's heart, cause even though I'm gone now, we'll never truly part."

 ~Anonymous