On your due date.

The room was silent.
All of us seeking a short escape in our screens for a minute, or two...
Talk of everything else, but.

Trying to laugh at other things.
You stared.
You got your first wave of pain and cold sweats.
Your mother held your head to her chest and wiped her tears and yours off your face.

He tried to hold the pieces of you together.
As the pieces were breaking from him, too. 
“I don’t want to do this!”
Then the rest of the room broke, too.

What does one say? 
Nothing.
You just sit.
You just be there. 
You avoid eye contact, 
but you just be there. 

Silence. 
(Aside from the pang of 4 measures of Brahms's Lullaby every so often in the background).
Rest.

Waiting room chairs at 5:00am.
Waiting room chairs at 10:00am
Silence.
Rest.

....for us.
Writhing for you.
Excruciating soul and body.

10:43pm. He’s Here.

Except not really.
His almost body was here,
Yet he was with his knitter.
Who made him perfect.
In his mother's womb.
A purpose yet unknown.
But a purpose so grand.

There is no footprint so small that it does not leave an imprint on this world.
Baby Barrett.
Baby Bear.
You. Are. So. Loved.
ARE because you are alive and perfect, just not here.

Hello and goodbye in the same day. 5.31.19
There’ll be a day we say hello again, and never goodbye.

... and the tears shed in that room.
on that day...
on the many days beyond that day
today perhaps-- On your due date.

They fill up many jars 
Each tear numbered by El Roi
A day is coming
They will be wiped away. 
Every single one.