Beautiful, and True

A mother of a child with a CHD posted this poem she wrote to a listserv to which I belong. It is incredibly beautiful, sad, poignant, and true.

Many people look at me and think they know how I feel,
but I have perfected the art of being seemingly made of steel.

As if I would wear my worry, fears, and anxiety over your future for the world to see-
that even with faith- the statistics, the hard facts are going thru my mind as I bounce you on my knee.

But I don't talk about 'it' a lot, what would people say-
since already they assume that everything is 'fine' because you 'look' okay?

Would they really want to know just how it still sometimes feels new
to see you again, in a hospital bed, crying, being poked or worked on by a crew?

Would they really want to know I feel our life with you is on borrowed time,
like being sentenced without having done any crime.

Would they really want to know that the 'sentence' I speak of is experiencing a beautiful gift
to love, hold, watch grow and explore and at any moment can be taken just as swift.

Would they really want to know how it looked, your first open heart cut-
well I could easily tell them, I see it perfectly when my eyes shut.

Would they really want to know that in my sleep,
I can clearly recall the fear and worry every time your monitors would beep?

Would they really want to know how I still have bouts of insecurity & crying,
that no matter how you 'look' is still the real & legitimate fear of you dying?

What they should know is your story, the good & bad -
And that your broken heart will always be mine-
I promise to make every second count and make the most of all our time....