Your death seared my cells,
fired them with you;
in one way, you left
me as your body slipped
from mine, 41 years ago,
but in another way, you
entered me;
your death
birthing this new me.
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Cheryl has taught preschool, elementary, college and life-long learning students; opened and managed a branch public library; earned an MEd and an MFA; and writes poems that arrive line by line in quiet places. Some of these have been shared in The Courtship of Winds, Blue Heron Review, Pulse and About Place Journal. Her newest adventure is becoming a grandmother.
Experiencing the death of a child during labor after a healthy pregnancy is unthinkable and life-changing. After my first son died from cord strangulation, writing about grief helped me to survive, to birth another son and to find strength deep within. Each year on the anniversary of my dead son’s birth, I write to him.
3 thoughts on “To My Son, Stillborn, January 16”
What a powerful poem. You express the effect of a still orn child so well.
Thank you for shining light on this for other parents
Thank you for sharing this piece with us. What a powerful reminder of how grief and a mother’s love can ve so intertwined.