|by Liesel J. Collins|
|Amara Roselani Collins|
|“Bad news,” he said. Bed rest till my ninth
month, I thought. “No, really bad news,” he said.
But she’s alive! I feel her still! But in a
while she will be still.
Crying in the labor room, 20 weeks-not
home free. Anticipating the coming gloom,
My child died inside of me.
At first I didn’t want to know who you were.
I thought to protect my heart. I thought this
But once I delivered you, my world
changed, you see. You are my baby girl,
Who lived and died inside of me.
Far away I saw you held by a stranger who
can never tell how it felt to have you,
Living and wiggling inside of me.
I named you Amara. To me you are
Eternally beautiful. Your middle name
To me you are heaven’s Rose.
God’s will-will be done. There is a reason
believes everyone –
Except me- Why you died inside of me.
Some say it hurts to see me cry. It hurts me
more my child has died.
Instead of taking you home with me, I was
given a box. A memory box they call it. But
nonetheless a box.
A box that I cherish and hold kiss and cry upon.
A box I’ve been told I should not look often on.
But in it are precious things I hold very dear,
your photographs, footprints, and handprints. I yearn to have you near.
Your tiny cap and cape. Each has a little stain.
A memory of you, a memory of my pain.
And now I’m at home, feeling empty and alone.
Your little grave I soon will see, my beautiful baby who died inside of me.
They say I will see you, someday very soon. God please save my soul
And fill this empty hole.
Goodbye, I love you My Amara
Your father loves you, too. Until
tomorrow... my beautiful baby who lived and
died inside of me.
|Written by Liesel J. Collins on June 14, 2003
Dedicated to Amara Roselani Collins, daughter of Jeffrey L. and Liesel J. Collins, who died on May 27, 2003.