Tribute to my Mother's Strength

When she took my dying son from my arms, I let her. I held my breath until I felt myself leave my body, only coming back because my baby needed me. I ignored the chemical smell of the hospital and instead focused on how much my son’s hair curled like his father’s. I watched my mother whisper prayers to him and adjust his newborn hospital hat making him look presentable, as if he were getting ready for a special meeting. She took a tissue from her purse, wet it with her spit and wiped the blood from the punctures in his little hands and arms. ...more
How lovely.  It reminded me of when I lost my daughter and how I cried on my mama's lap that I ...more