A Child of Mine

A child of mine. I found this poem in a book I just started reading "Sunshine After the Storm, a Survival Guide For the Grieving Mother" When I am finished with the book I will let you know how it is (but let's be honest, it is going to take me a while to finish it...I am well known for making it half way through a book and getting distracted by another)

This poem gave me a different perspective on the loss of my babies. That I was chosen to be their mommy. Even if I didn't get a lifetime with them, I was chosen because God wanted me to have them, even for the little time I did. He knew I would love them more than anything, and although I am now overcome with grief because they are gone, that is only because I loved them so much.

This poem has two versions, one where the baby is a girl and one where it is a boy, so if your little one in heaven is a little boy, you might like that one better.

"A CHILD OF MINE"

Author: Edgar Guest

I will lend you, for a little time,

A child of mine, He said.

For you to love the while she lives,

And mourn for when she's dead.

It may be six or seven years,

Or twenty-two or three.

But will you, till I call her back,

Take care of her for Me?

She'll bring her charms to gladden you,

And should her stay be brief.

You'll have her lovely memories,

As solace for your grief.

I cannot promise she will stay,

Since all from earth return.

But there are lessons taught down there,

I want this child to learn.

I've looked the wide world over,

In search for teachers true.

And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,

I have selected you.

Now will you give her all your love,

Nor think the labour vain.

Nor hate me when I come

To take her home again?

I fancied that I heard them say,

'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'

For all the joys Thy child shall bring,

The risk of grief we'll run.

We'll shelter her with tenderness,

We'll love her while we may,

And for the happiness we've known,

Forever grateful stay.

But should the angels call for her,

Much sooner than we've planned.

We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,

And try to understand.