By Janet Osborne 
In memory of all our precious babies 
As the rose bends with the dew,
That same bent posture, I see in you.
Grief has weighed us, for pregnancy loss
chooses but a few
The strong, the weak, me and you.
Tomorrow holds what we cannot touch today.
Those dreams that we hold so truly.
Miscarriage steals all that... so suddenly...
so cruelly...
But our lives just are not supposed to
be that way.
Jimmy, Matthew, Rachel, Elizabeth, what for
a name?
The months, the days, the planning, the dreaming.
Now at delivery, the quiet stillness with
only hearts screaming.
Stillborn? Yes, stillborn, but born just the same.
As loving eyes gaze through the misty
oxygen hood,
They silently whisper a name to God.
Please bless this precious one, touch us all
in your comforting way, dear God.
They would trade their life for this precious
one dying, if only they could.