Living With Silence
By Lynne Barberian 
In memory of Rachel 
I open my eyes in the morning and I think of you.
I wish I was awakened by your little voice crying for me.
Instead of this silence.
The silence is the most difficult part.
I was prepared to take care of you.
Your room is still set up.
Your clothes are still in the drawers
I waited anxiously for your arrival.
But instead my house is silent.
The labor was what I expected.
It was worth every moment just to have you with me.
But then when I delivered you... you were silent.
Deafening silence filled my ears.
Screaming silence.
No cry, no breath, no movement.
Horrible silence.
My crying and screaming filled the room.
But your silence outweighed the noise.
It hung like a black cloud over my head.
And quickly enveloped my entire body.
Covered me in a cold, wet, chilling blanket of misery.
So now I am trying to live with the silence.
It will be forever there.
Haunting my days and my nights.
The happiest and saddest moment in my life.
All rolled into one fiery ball of silence.