Written By A Teenage Birth Mother

Written by a Teenage Birth Mother

I had a secret that I knew, for a time, I must hide
A treasure I hugged to me, buried deep inside.
I knew I couldn’t hide it for terribly long,
but I wanted to delay hearing, my joy was wrong.
But I stood up for us when I might’ve ran,
And hoped we’d be treated with a kind hand.
There were some who wanted to, but couldn’t;
Then ones that could but thought they shouldn’t.
So I went out on my own and gave it my best,
I worked and worked with very little rest.
I paid my rent, and bought my food,
And went to the doctor just like I should.
I was a child in a harsh world and so naive
I was such an innocent and I believed
I could raise this child of my body and heart
That nothing could happen to keep us apart.
Then I felt the flutter of my joy and I would sing
To him of love and ponies and other sweet things.
He sang to my soul too in a whispery voice
And that’s when I started to question my choice.
My heart burned with love, fear and shame
As I thought all I could give him was love and a name.
I wanted a life for him I knew I couldn’t give
I wanted a chance for him to honestly live.
Ignoring my heart’s screams, I signed on the line,
patting his butt in my tummy, saying it’s going to be fine.
I continued to sing to him though it was bittersweet,
But hoped it would help him remember me, until we meet.
It was harder than what I imagine death could be,
Trying to remember he was someone else’s baby,
I wasn’t allowed to touch or hold him when he was born,
And my heart cracked and bled as I cried and mourned.
I thought I was a bad mom and selfish to miss him so,
That my reasons were sound and I should let him go.
So I squared my shoulders and I went on
Though I never forgot or stopped loving my son.
Cathy Kerns, © 1982

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Margaret Tidwell

I am a 32-year-old blogger. I write about my life and my struggles with Multiple Sclerosis. I also am a huge book worm and I have been doing book reviews for years now. I also blog about adoption, Multiple Sclerosis, and things that go on in my life.

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

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