I’m a Mother Too

by K.D. DeFehr

Photo Credit: Kristy DeFehr

I’m a mother now too,
although our little one’s story will never unfold.
I’m a mother now too,
only with just the ghost of a happy memory,
no baby hands to hold.
And no baby toes to count and kiss
on tiny baby feet.
No fireworks on the calendar to mark
the first day we heard a heartbeat.
And I can’t count how many times
I pictured them in my arms,
and all the ways our lives would change,
and all the ways it could go wrong.
But mostly I imagined
pushing them on a swing;
someone to bake a cupcake with,
to teach to read, write and enjoy life’s simple things.
And, trust me, I also thought of
that first day they’d break a bone,
and all the temper tantrums I had coming
to appease my own parenting karma alone.
Now it’s not promised we’ll ever have that.
Gone with our little one is a tarnished piece of anatomy
that can’t be replaced,
but I’ll always have the expression of joy and excitement
I saw upon my loving husband’s face
the day I got to tell him
those two test stick lines turned pink,
and although now our dream bubble feels like it only lasted a blink…
Our little one has changed me
and I’ll never be the same.
I’m a mother too now
and my mind is always whispering their name.
And I can feel that there once was a presence
from the way my heart has only gained
room for what was meant to be
but not to be all the same.
And I can see the physical scars
about where stretch marks should be.
I close my eyes and still feel the tears burning
as the nurse held an oxygen mask on me.
There, in the O.R.,
maternal instincts were flooding up my core.
I could have abandoned myself like a sinking vessel
to awake to a half-life on a barren shore.
The doctors had been clear –
either I’d live or we both would die.
So, I made the decision right then and there
that all my love would survive.
I turned inward to my seed-sized human –
nestled in the wrong organ, but already with a heart.
Tell me, how do I wake without you, without the whole world staying dark?
There came a voice from inside me which said, “You’ll never be alone.
In my stead, you’ll find the light and love you created for me on your very own.
For some time, it’ll go by a new name, and that name is Grief.
Feel that as long as you need to. Then let it be released.
Now you’ll wrap your arms around yourself
as your own mother would do.
Feel that?
That is unconditional love,
passed from her to me, through you.
Keep it close and when you are ready, hold it high – let it shine light like a beacon.
So, although for now, we say goodbye…
In time, I will return to you.
In what form, I cannot promise.
But, Mother, you will recognize me –
this connection runs deeper than the organ to be discarded.”
Ah, yes.
I remember everything –
waking up from that surgery only one part of a whole;
the piece of me that was discarded
nothing to the piece of us we’d never hold.
But as my husband wheeled me down the hallway,
and out the hospital doors,
I saw the two of us in a way I’d never quite seen us before.
Not a broken man or woman,
not just an untraditional family,
but a team of love-struck warriors,
fit for writing and rewriting their own dreams.
So, you see, I’m a mother too now,
and although it’s someone’s Mom I long to be,
I’m okay to stand with millions who carry the folded stories
of little ones who had to be set free.
And I think if all that untethered love is out there
floating around the universe,
then maybe that’s our freeway
between the Heavens and the Earth.
So, as I begin each morning with the decision
whether to embrace myself or hold my beacon high,
I whisper thank you,
                         thank you,
                                  thank you
to myself and my arrow in the sky.

About the Author

Kailey Dawne DeFehr is a young Vancouver Island poet, creative writer and aspiring novelist. She was the Inaugural Youth Poet Laureate for the City of Nanaimo, her hometown where she still resides, in the years 2017-2018. She is most passionate about literary works that promote mental health and wellbeing, and is currently writing her first fiction novel. You can find out more about Kailey at kaileydefehr.wixsite.com/poetry.

• mother
• mother too
• motherhood poems