How Am I Supposed to Feel? A Poem of Thanks

Sometimes birth mothers do not feel noble or brave, but I think they are.  You may recall that I am Italian and Irish, quite a deadly combo at times, so forgive me if this is too emotional for my more stoic readers (my Italian father would probably call this a three hanky poem).  However sharing these things from my heart might help someone feel better.  At least one person felt better for writing this note of thanks.

 

A love that gave up all that mattered, all so precious, all so dear,

A mother’s love from arms that handed her to me, eyes filled with tears.

Your heart was broken, sorrow lingers, respite comes in lucid moments.

Now you two have come together, how am I supposed to feel?
 

They tell me that I should feel jealous, threatened, worried, insecure.

But all I feel toward you, my angel, is love and gratefulness galore.

My heart is full of great compassion for the sacrifice you made,

All for someone else’s good, your gift to us can’t be repaid.
 

So many smiles and tears and glances that you missed, I’m well aware.

The touch of baby’s dear soft cheek, the combing of the golden hair.

The baby talk and steps to girlhood, all the friends sent from above,

You must have been a special angel to give that up, such was your love.
 

And now you two have come together, hugs and tears to melt the pain,

The years of want and longing ended, sorrow that would never wane,

  Finally softens at this meeting, giving way to catching up,

The God who saw your every teardrop-finally filling up your cup.
 

And so I cry with tears of joy at this right and good event,

All my friends think I am crazy, but I enjoyed the one He sent.

It is not time for me to worry, only to return the favor,

Sharing her was never easy, but it was your true love’s labor.
 

They tell me that I should feel jealous, threatened, worried, insecure.

But all I feel toward you, my angel, is love and gratefulness galore.

My heart is full of great compassion for the sacrifice you made,

All for someone else’s good, your gift to us can’t be repaid
 

 

Written for a wonderful birth mother, with great affection.

About allthingslizard

I have done just about everything I have always wanted to do: worked as a campus minister, became a teacher, married a nice man named Joe (36 years now), adopted three wonderful kids and watched them reach adulthood, lived overseas, earned my Ph.D., and recently became an RN. However the only thing I have not yet done is to write about my life's journey, even though I have written a lot of personal poems, mom notes to my kids, academic papers, and thousands of letters. I have a lot to write about because all those things I have done were accomplished on smooth roads with beautiful vistas, as well as on scary, twisted, hurricane alleys. Maybe you will find something here that you can relate to. And yes, I know that a preposition is a terrible thing to end a sentence with.
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