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Newborn Grief
I looked in to the eyes of raw grief today.
Newborn, young...only four-weeks old.
A featherless, exposed baby bird, vulnerable and chilled.
I saw heavy. ...
Warm, wet wool on an August afternoon, blanketing.
Shockingly slow....wading in sticky pudding.

The pain-filled eyes prickled...stung me....I longed to crawl in to his heart and coo,
"There, there. It will be okay."
But I can't lie.

I came home and looked in to my eyes....surrounded by new-found wrinkles, lips that no longer smile easily...ancient and knowing.
Toddler grief...a foggy friend hovering around my shoulders. Always there.
The friend that stays too long at the party, makes me feel tired and annoyed....

If the toddler and the baby could sit and talk, though, I think they'd say the same thing. I think they'd say "it was worth it, huh?" It was worth the exposure...the pain...the slowness....the age.... DressAfford petite mother of the bride or groom dresses short

"Those years with him? They were worth it."

We'd do it again...

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