Based on a True Story About the Birth of my Son.

August 16th, 2006 – 1:12 P.M.

He was born without a cry.

That silence still echoes in my memory, louder than any scream ever could. The room was full of movement—doctors rushing, nurses focused—but for me, time came to a screeching halt. I didn’t get to hold him in my arms, and I didn’t get a glimpse before they whisked him away. Something was wrong, and I felt it in my bones before they ever said the words: meconium aspiration

The words meant little to me in that moment, and all I knew was he struggled to breathe on his own. He was being life-flighted to a bigger hospital over an hour away, and at the time, they were uncertain if he’d survive.

“Would I be making funeral arrangements for my newborn?” Was the question that burdened my mind.

I was terrified, devastated, and everything in between.

I gave birth but left the hospital with empty arms the following morning. I didn’t know what to do or what tomorrow would bring. I only knew that my baby—the little soul I had carried inside me—was fighting for his life, and I couldn’t be beside him. I drove straight to Hamot Medical Center the minute I was released from Meadville Medical Center to be with my baby boy, JJ.

The first week was the hardest as the machines took each breath for him. Nurses spoke softly, their eyes kind but tired. I can still smell the sterile scent of the NICU and the constant beeping of monitors all around as I whispered prayers and spoke to him through plexiglass.

I tried to be strong, but there were nights I cried so hard that I could barely stand.

And then… little by little, he fought his way back to me.

It wasn’t a sudden shift. It was gradual—measured in ounces gained, breaths taken on his own, lines and tubes being removed one by one. Each tiny milestone felt like a mountain climbed.

After 46 days, we finally brought him home.

Forty-six days of uncertainty.

Forty-six days of tears.

Forty-six days of praying as hard as I could that JJ would make a full recovery.

Forty-six days that changed me as a mother and as a woman.

He was my miracle child, and he still is almost nineteen years later.

Every time I hear his laugh or feel his long arms wrap around me, I remember the silence at his birth—and how far we’ve come since.

#inspiration #truestory #creativenonfiction

They don’t arrive with sirens loud,

No thunderclap or warning signs.

Just whispers wrapped in silken thread,

A glance, a word, a path misled.

They laugh too sharp, or love too fast,

Their stories change, their tempers blast.

A backhanded praise,then a shift in tone,

At night, you feel so all alone.

The silence when they should defend,

Excuses that just never end.

They cage your wings and call it care,

Control disguised as love laid bare.

They tell you you’re too much, too deep,

They haunt the edges of your sleep.

You dim your light to keep them calm,

Mistaking poison for a balm.

But red is not just a warning hue,

It’s courage when you see right through.

To spot the signs, to choose to flee,

To save the soul they hoped to seize.

So raise your voice, unclip your chains,

Walk boldly through the growing pains.

Red flags don’t mean you have to stay

They’re signals shouting “walk away.“

#poems ##poetry #inspiration #healing

I see you clear when I am weak,

You rise when I can barely speak.

You sharpen smiles, I try to hide,

You flourish where I die inside.

You trace my scars with lover’s grace,

Then dare me to reveal your face.

You whisper what I’d never say,

And laugh when I just look away.

You are the scream I hold inside,

The urge I bury, vilify.

You do not flinch nor do you fall,

You’d watch me beg and take it all.

You'd burn the bridge and salt the land,

As I reach out with trembling hands.

I’d pray for peace, you’d bait the fight.

I dim the flame, you crave the light.

You dress in rage I dare not feel,

You wound to prove that you can heal.

You dance where I would crawl or bow,

You do what conscience won’t allow.

And still, I feel you when I sleep,

You haunt the spaces silence keeps.

You’re not a ghost nor just a mask,

You are the mirror I would not ask.

We share a soul, a blood, a skin,

My shadow self and darker twin.

I once was lost inside the ache,

A soul too tired, a heart that breaks.

The world felt dark, my light was gone,

Each breath I took just felt so wrong.

The nights were long, the tears ran deep,

I traded dreams for restless sleep.

I wore a mask to hide the pain,

But every smile just felt in vain.

They couldn’t see the war inside,

The shattered parts I tried to hide.

But healing isn’t loud or fast,

It’s when those quiet moments pass.

It’s in those times you choose to stay,

When every thought says "run away."

It's when you whisper, “it's okay",

Even when it's not that way.

When broken feels like all you know,

But still, you plant the seeds that grow.

You find the strength you feared was gone,

And bit by bit, you carry on.

The past may knock, but it won’t stay,

You’re building something new each day.

You’re learning love that starts within,

And that's when all the healing begins.

So, if you’re hurting, take your time,

There’s no straight path or perfect line.

#poems #poetry #inspiration #healing

Shattered like a crystal vase,

I fell from grace in silent space.

No warning sign or last embrace,

Just pieces scattered out of place.

Once I stood in perfect form,

Polished bright through every storm.

A thousand shards, a million screams,

Lost within those broken dreams.

Reflections sharp, too much to face,

A soul undone in time and place.

But broken things aren’t always gone,

And beauty finds its way back on.

Each fragment held a light and truth,  

A softer strength of deeper youth.

I gathered pain with patient care,

Rebuilt my shape from thin, cracked air.

I do not hide the cracks I own,

They show how much I’ve lived and grown.

There’s art in pain and grace in scars,

Shattered glass can shine like stars.

#poems #poetry #inspiration #healing

In quiet woods where whispers play,

The stress of life just fades away.

A gentle breeze, a sky so wide,

Where peace and calm and dreams abide.

No rush, no race, no harsh decree,

Just soft, unfolding harmony.

A brook that hums a lullaby,

While clouds drift slowly through the sky.

The weight I bore, it slips from me,

Replaced by still serenity.

So, when the storms of life pursue,

I’ll take the path I always knew.

Where silence sings and hearts are free,

A place I call serenity.

#poems #poetry #inspiration #serenity #healing #recovery

Silence taught what noise could not,

That peace is something fiercely sought.

Now I draw my lines with care,

Not walls, just doors and a breath of air.

Not cruel nor cold, just simply me,

Reclaiming light and clarity.

No more guilt for choosing rest,

No shame in keeping what feels best.

Now I know that peace will grow

As I protect the seeds I sow.

#boundaries #self-improvement #inspiration

The days were long, yet slipped away,

In laughter, light, and skies of gray.

I watched you grow, both strong and kind,

A better world you’ll surely find.

Though time has flown and moments fade,

The bond we share will always stay.

My son, you're loved beyond all end—

With all my heart, my greatest friend.

#poems #poetry #inspiration #positivity

You dimmed the truth and lit a lie,

Then watched me question reasons why.

You changed the script, denied the scene,

Made madness where my mind has been.

You wore a smile, so soft and sly, While telling me my fears were high.

You bruised me with the words you used,

"You're just confused," you lit the fuse.

You made me question what I knew,

Then called me crazy when it grew.

A twisted phrase, a silent shove, A cold, cruel version of your love.

You seeked control in sweet disguise,

Then fed me truth and called them 'lies.'

These sparks won't die in buried ash,

The silence breaks with one loud crash.

#poems #healing #inspiration

Sarah woke up to the soft warmth of sunlight brushing across her face as the world outside was quietly humming its morning song. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mingled with the laughter of her children echoing through the hallways from the living room. In that very moment, it all felt infinite, but deep down, she knew better.

Sarah had learned long ago—not in a book, or from a movie, but in the hushed, heavy silence of the operating room where she worked as a nurse —that tomorrow is never a promise. As a hospital nurse, she had stood beside too many bedsides and held too many hands that would never feel the morning sun again. She had seen lives change in a breath, in a heartbeat, and in a whisper of a moment. Giving her every reason to rise with purpose.

Before pouring that morning cup of coffee, she pulled her kids close to her and held them just a second longer than usual, feeling their little hearts beating against her own.

“You are everything to me and you gave my life its meaning,” she whispered into their ears. Sami and Braden were too young to fully understand the weight of her words, but someday they would.

Next, she called her parents. Her voice began cracking through her gratitude. “Thank you,” she said softly, “for the sleepless nights, the sacrifices I never saw, and the unconditional love. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, a gentle, tear-filled voice that said, "we love you too.”

After Sarah spoke to her elderly parents, she reached out to her siblings, her cousins, and also the friends who had become family over the years. She told them what so many forget to say:

How much they mattered to her--so much more than they'd ever know.

And in the quiet that followed, Sarah didn’t regret a single word, because she knew—if today was her last day and this was the final time her heart would beat beneath her chest—then she had lived it with love.

She had spoken the words that so often go unsaid. She hugged more tightly, smiled more freely, and reminded the people in her world that they were loved and cherished deeply.

We never know which sunrise might be our last. So, let’s love loudly, forgive freely, and never leave a kind word unspoken, because if tomorrow never comes… let today be a masterpiece of love.

#gratitude #flashfiction #inspiration