Saturday, September 13, 2008
Birthmothers and Birthdays
She labored all day eight years ago, so that I could be a mother.
She handed over the very best birthday gift I've ever received, and she didn't even know me.
She gave him life, even when she didn't have to.
She stepped back and let me step in.
She doesn't demand.
She doesn't ask.
She doesn't expect.
She is my hero.
And she is heavy on my heart today.
What does she think?
Does she cry?
Does she remember?
Does it sneak up on her?
Does she dread this day for weeks?
Does she wonder?
Does she regret?
Because of her, I have him.
Most days he's just mine.
One of the crowd.
But today he's ours.
She's peaking over my shoulder.
Reminding me of the blessing I have.
The blessing she delivered to me.