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My daughter is suffering with Postpartum Depression. It is a cruel disease.
I Love Her
6:30 am
Mom, I am coming to you
I am tired and full of fear
I am without sleep
I want to die
Mom, help me.
She comes to me with eyes swollen;
tears cling to her pale face,
lips trembling,
hands shaking,
wanting something
only a mother can give.
I listen and try to comfort.
With only three hours sleep myself,
I struggle for the right words.
My baby is hurting;
I want to hold her in my lap.
She is twenty-eight.
I am fifty-four.
She is my daughter.
I love her.
She is suffering with
Postpartem Depression
after giving birth to Daisy Catherine.
She struggles to get through each day
and through those long sleepless nights.
I cannot make her all better.
I cannot just kiss her "boo boos" and
make the world good again.
I can only listen, guide, and love her.
And I do
Love her.
She finally sleeps on my couch
covered in a quilt. Warm and safe.
I wait and listen to her breathing
to hear the sound of deep sleep.
I am brought back to times when
I nursed her at my breast. Let her sleep
on my chest. Hearing her breathing,
knowing when I can lay her down.
It is the same feeling as I tip toe
out of the room and call her husband
to tell him that she is okay. He is relieved.
I lie down in my bed and pray for her
healing. Please God heal my child.
I love her.
Kathy Lockhart
12/30/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 771 times
Written on 2006-12-30 at 21:38
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