I don’t want to be fragile
Your dad is so strong
I hate being the one that cries
in the doctors office as they speak.
I don’t want the tissues or the tears but they come anyways.
Why do I crumble?
I need to be stronger
for you it’s true.
I tell myself this in the mirror before appointments
don’t break don’t break
but for some reason it’s as if I hold it all in. Once we get there and they tell us bad news suddenly I can’t bare to stay strong. I let it out I cry like I’m unburdening my soul but it’s not good for you
this I know, I’ll get better soon
I must get it together
and be strong like your father
Who’s the reflection?
The mirror's face, a stranger's now, I find. I can barely look at myself without feeling sad.
I should love the stretch marks and the extra skin for birthing my girls and breastfeeding them for months.
Yet still, I can’t get myself to love this body new. Missing the old one that used to be here.
Beautiful Anomaly
Sometimes white coats may not have the best explanations. Saying Wolf-Hirschhorn syndrome is a lightning strike severe.
Though a lightning metaphor leaves a bitter sting. It was as if they said your hand is one destined to lose.
From now on I let the lightning's metaphor fade with the night. No need to focus on the charts and the odds of what you’ll do.
Because all that matters is the power you hold. And baby you have so much strength already. I see it daily.
Genes may be missing but that just makes You a real life unicorn. A one in a million baby.
Your condition makes you a beautiful anomaly, forever rare.