Kicking off #BAMsCreate2019 for PAIL Awareness Month is Black Angel Mom Rhonda M. Check out the beauty she created capturing the intensity of the perinatal loss experience.
BAM Rhonda is also a poet. “Ain’t I Still a Mother Too” is a beautifully written piece looking at that confusing place post-loss, where you are trying to figure out your claim to motherhood. Check it out below.
Ain’t I Still A Mother Too?
A Mother’s love exists from the start
Mine began when I saw the beat of your heart
But it wasn’t meant to be
Tell me what am I to do?
I know my baby died
But ain’t I still a Mother too?
You had tiny little fingers
And tiny little toes
Two eyes too soon to open
And a little button nose
Other Mother’s got to hold their babies
But I never got to hold you
I know that my baby is up in Heaven
But ain’t I still a Mother too?
I see all the Mothers showered with love
Each and every Mother’s Day
But what about the many of us
Whose babies have gone away?
We have empty cribs and empty wombs
But our hearts are still filled with love
We long to have our children here
But they watch over us from above.
We remember each due date and birth dates too
We remember the loss dates even more
We remember the joy of having life in our bellies
Tell me what was this sacrifice for?
No gender reveals or blankets in pink or blue
No 1st steps or 1st day of school
No dirty diapers or wiping baby drool
No sleepovers or wading in the baby pool
It wasn’t my fault this wasn’t the dream
We are the forgotten Mothers or so it seems
No I never got to hold you
Tell me what am I to do?
I know my baby is up in Heaven
But ain’t I still a mother too?
Straight from Rhonda: “I was blessed to have my angel grow in my womb for 9 weeks and 5 days. I named her Maya Symone even though I never officially found out the sex of my baby. Everything in me said she was a girl. In those 9 weeks I learned the meaning of unconditional love. I had never felt a love so big or so consuming. I was 38. It was my first and only pregnancy. 11 years later my womb is still empty and the chances of that changing get smaller and smaller as I approach my 50th birthday. The only thing I have as proof that my baby existed is a faded ultrasound that was taken at 6 weeks. The same day I got to see my baby’s heartbeat. I still remember the overwhelming joy I felt. And even though my time with her was brief, the love I had for her still exists. Still fills my soul. “
