The first time I heard my son cry as adult it broke my heart.
He called me from the hospital, his newborn son's heart had stopped.
His voice revealed panic, I could hear his heart breaking.
He said mama I just called to ask you to pray with me.
Standing in the hospital room pushed aside by the doctors,
My baby was weeping and reaching out to me for comfort.
We prayed and I held it together for the sake of my son.
This boy is my heart my little boy in a man's frame.
His baby was brought back and I was blessed to behold,
My giant of a son hold his little baby in his big hands
And gently whisper, "I'm here son, I'm your Dad."
I am a native of Chicago but have spent the past fifteen years in Kentucky. Growing up an only child. I began writing at a very early age. When I was a kid I wrote little short stories that my friends and I would act out like little plays. Today I write because writing is a part of me, I can't imagine a life without it. I write alot of poetry, I find it is a way for me to express the emotional side of the story I am telling. I have just completed my first collection of poetry and I am working on a novel. Each chapter begins with a poem. I am the proud Mother of two sons. An adult son and a four year old. My children are my life. I am happily married to my best friend and soul mate. I am thankful for each day that God has given me with my family.
I was inspired to write this piece by a phone call I received from my son on the day his newborn son's heart stopped while in the neo-natal unit. We knew the baby was going to be born with a birth defect thanks to the technology of ultra sound, even knowing does not prepare one. We are a very spiritual family and I have been blessed that my son knows that he can always go to God or his Mother in a time of need. My son is truly a good and wonderful young man and I dedicate this poem to him. Today my Grandson is happy and completely healthy and my Son is a fantastic Father. I knew my son was truly a man when I witnessed his love for his son, his ability to call me and ask for help and when he let me see that he knew sometimes real men need to cry.
Author email: Imladybug270@aol.com.