A Poem

Mother, by Marilyn Van Winkle

A peppermint carnation is what I'll wear for Mother's Day this year . . .
A delicate flower and symbol of love for you, my baby, dear.
The red for living, the white for death, the blend of pink for "always loved,"
A fragrance of remembrance of your life, now up above.

I'll carry your memory on my lapel, my treasured, first-born child
You were a very precious gift, so small, and meek, and mild.
And when this special day is over and the blossom has faded away,
I'll continue to wear the name "Mother," your priceless gift to me, always.

I'll always wonder how long Sophia would have had to live for the people in our lives to consider us a mother and father. A day? A week? A year? What would it have taken to earn the title of Mom and Dad? This is a question that continues to circle my thoughts, especially prominent on Mother's and Father's Day.

There are people in our life who don't say a word to us on Mother's or Father's Day. I've heard they don't say anything because they think we don't want to be reminded of the daughter we gave birth to who didn't make it. Silence seems to be a plentiful comfort. The legacy of silence that surrounds the loss of a child continues to propagate on special days.

The ironic thing? It's not as if you can forget giving birth to a child, in fact it lingers often, daily, weekly, it lingers often to fill the space of dreams that will never be.

For those concerned about reminding a loved one of their loss on Mother's or Father's Day, don't worry about that, it's not like they've forgotten. Worry more about how to honor them for the parents they once were.

To my friends and family, wishing you a peaceful mother's day.

To Sophia, I wish we could have saved you.

To Magpie, you are always in our thoughts and we long for the day you enter our lives.