deepundergroundpoetry.com
His Life
His life, a small and fragile balance of squeaks and laughs.
Special things he does for the first time, and moments that will never be repeated.
His life, is more precious than any material thing someone could buy.
A smile showing a tooth slowly forming and hazel eyes that he shares with his father.
His life, something that makes me quiver in shame for wanting to take my own.
When his eyes fill with tears, but he cries settle because he hears my heartbeat or falls asleep in his father's arms.
His life, something that I will always be proud of for helping create.
From cradle to crib, from his back to his belly, for cooing to squeaking, the the laugh that can make my heart break and swell all at the same time.
His life, going so fast and so slow at the same time.
A baby placed on my chest after birth, a newborn coming home for the first time, his first smile, laugh, tears, first time he rolled over, first spoonful of food-- His firsts mark my life, measuring what he has accomplished and what I will teach him.
His life, is not a game that you may pick up and play whenever you see fit.
He cries when he doesn't know someone, so changing your appearance or disappearing from his life doesn't make him love you, it makes him not know you and than he becomes distant and scared.
His life, is still going, breathing, moving, trying to crawl and failing.
Chubby arms and legs, two dimples, one big smile, hazel eyes he got from his father and the sweetest personality that a baby could have.
His life, is expanding, growing, changing.
From bottle to food to meats to crackers, he'll be sitting up and holding his own bottle before you can blink an eye.
His life, keeps me alive and I love watching him grow.
Watching him learn, his eyes light up when he sees the caterpillar turn into the butterfly after eating so much good, his laugh when he playing with my scarf, and how he seems to always have a smile for Mommy, Daddy and Grandma every morning. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
His life, is better because he has a father to look up to.
Sits on the floor and plays with him, helps him crawl, and he watches the colors and games burst on the screen as Daddy plays video games. Daddy swoops him into his arms and they're off the Columbia or Rapture, fight the Big Daddies and save Elizabeth from Songbird. I am so happy to see a father and child together, knowing that I never had something so precious touch my own heart.
His life, is better to have a grandmother who quit smoking for him.
He lays on her bed with her, and she reads and sings to him. She keeps a journal of all his first moments, something maybe I should do but I remember every one of them. It makes her feel whole to know she put down the cancerous sticks for her grandchild. I think of my own grandparents and I wish they were here to meet him.
His life, has completed mine-- From daughter to friend to student to loner to new girl to abused to outcast to suicidal to girlfriend to cheater to girlfriend again, to mother. He made me a mother, a pregnancy with horrible people trying to steal his father away, trying to push me out, trying to make me give up my dream of holding a baby, a squirming and adorable baby in my arms, I never gave in because I knew deep in my heart and my mind that he was worth every moment I suffered, 33 hours of labor, harassment from doctors and nurses, plenty of panic attacks to fill a lifetime the entire time fighting towards him, fighting for his life.
His life, will not stop for no one. . . Which means he will continue to grow and treat estranged people as strangers. And the people that made his life better, he will learn to treat them as his family.
We did not choose our families, our families chose us.
I suppose sometimes our families decide against us in the end.
His life, was meant to bring families together, but instead of a family I feel as if the people that live with him are the only ones that are worth being called his true family, and they are the ones that will witness and have a place in his life.
Special things he does for the first time, and moments that will never be repeated.
His life, is more precious than any material thing someone could buy.
A smile showing a tooth slowly forming and hazel eyes that he shares with his father.
His life, something that makes me quiver in shame for wanting to take my own.
When his eyes fill with tears, but he cries settle because he hears my heartbeat or falls asleep in his father's arms.
His life, something that I will always be proud of for helping create.
From cradle to crib, from his back to his belly, for cooing to squeaking, the the laugh that can make my heart break and swell all at the same time.
His life, going so fast and so slow at the same time.
A baby placed on my chest after birth, a newborn coming home for the first time, his first smile, laugh, tears, first time he rolled over, first spoonful of food-- His firsts mark my life, measuring what he has accomplished and what I will teach him.
His life, is not a game that you may pick up and play whenever you see fit.
He cries when he doesn't know someone, so changing your appearance or disappearing from his life doesn't make him love you, it makes him not know you and than he becomes distant and scared.
His life, is still going, breathing, moving, trying to crawl and failing.
Chubby arms and legs, two dimples, one big smile, hazel eyes he got from his father and the sweetest personality that a baby could have.
His life, is expanding, growing, changing.
From bottle to food to meats to crackers, he'll be sitting up and holding his own bottle before you can blink an eye.
His life, keeps me alive and I love watching him grow.
Watching him learn, his eyes light up when he sees the caterpillar turn into the butterfly after eating so much good, his laugh when he playing with my scarf, and how he seems to always have a smile for Mommy, Daddy and Grandma every morning. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
His life, is better because he has a father to look up to.
Sits on the floor and plays with him, helps him crawl, and he watches the colors and games burst on the screen as Daddy plays video games. Daddy swoops him into his arms and they're off the Columbia or Rapture, fight the Big Daddies and save Elizabeth from Songbird. I am so happy to see a father and child together, knowing that I never had something so precious touch my own heart.
His life, is better to have a grandmother who quit smoking for him.
He lays on her bed with her, and she reads and sings to him. She keeps a journal of all his first moments, something maybe I should do but I remember every one of them. It makes her feel whole to know she put down the cancerous sticks for her grandchild. I think of my own grandparents and I wish they were here to meet him.
His life, has completed mine-- From daughter to friend to student to loner to new girl to abused to outcast to suicidal to girlfriend to cheater to girlfriend again, to mother. He made me a mother, a pregnancy with horrible people trying to steal his father away, trying to push me out, trying to make me give up my dream of holding a baby, a squirming and adorable baby in my arms, I never gave in because I knew deep in my heart and my mind that he was worth every moment I suffered, 33 hours of labor, harassment from doctors and nurses, plenty of panic attacks to fill a lifetime the entire time fighting towards him, fighting for his life.
His life, will not stop for no one. . . Which means he will continue to grow and treat estranged people as strangers. And the people that made his life better, he will learn to treat them as his family.
We did not choose our families, our families chose us.
I suppose sometimes our families decide against us in the end.
His life, was meant to bring families together, but instead of a family I feel as if the people that live with him are the only ones that are worth being called his true family, and they are the ones that will witness and have a place in his life.
Published 10th Aug 2013
| Edited 24th Aug 2013
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