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He came to me, ahead of his time
And I knew we faced an uphill climb.
Anything but hearty and hale,
He was tiny, wrinkled, scrawny and pale.

Not due until April, he came three months early -
My God, his arrival caused such a great flurry.
The outlook, for him, was horribly bleak.
His cry was pitiful - thin & weak.

They poked & they prodded & did all their tests
Until neither he nor I could rest.

With tubes and needles they trussed him up,
Then gave me a drink from that bitter cup.

His lips were tinted the palest blue
Because the air could not get through.
Problems, they said, with both lungs & heart -
Defects, they said, of the gravest sort.

I picked him up, my last-born son
And wondered what wrong we'd either done.
Against my heart I cradled my baby.
His future, at this point, a long-shot; a maybe.

Twenty-eight hours he fought a brave fight -
An endless day and a longer night.
Minutes as hours, I tried to see
What this babe, if he lived, could be.

I saw him first as a growing child -
Friendly, happy, a little bit wild.
I saw him later, as he was in his teens,
In cowboy hat, boots and faded blue jeans.

In my daydreams he looked so like his dad.
I have to admit it, I cried and was sad.
A good-looking man; tan, tall and thin
With blue-green eyes and a heart-stopping grin.

His held my finger with weakening grip
As from this world I watched him slip.
Heartbeat erratic, his breathing grew slow
As I kissed him & loved him and watched him go.

I'd buried my husband a month and a day
Before I sent our baby his way.
I know that he'll watch over and love him for me
Until in the future them both I will see.

Learn more about this author, Sherry Law.
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