Something Rare–A Simple Poem

Yes, I know that I have stated that I have an idea for this blog, and I really am feeling strongly about going with a “beauty blog” for the time being. However, I wanted to share some literary work of mine before I started this new little “side project.” So, here it is…

I do not often write poetry because honestly it is just not my “thing,” but recently I was inspired to write a poem about something that means a great deal to me. I have recently experienced another loss, and this loss weighs heavily on my heart and soul much like my first does. Not a day goes by that I do not think of the excitement experienced, the love immediately felt, the struggle through the process, and the heartache that followed. This may not be the best poem or even the most academically accepted, but it captures some of my heart.

For My Loves

My desire to be a mother is great;
This is something I always thought to be my fate.
How I yearn for this blessing,
Yet I continue to endure the testing.
Strength is what I truly need,
Yet pain and frustration is what I bleed.
I don’t understand why,
And many nights I cry
For some kind of explanation–
A reason for my missing part.

I need justification
For the hole in my heart.

Baby Shoes

239Honestly, this blog is not supposed to be a place where I rant about things that are on my mind or that bother me.  In reality, I am searching for some sort of focus for this blog; I very much enjoy writing but simply lack the focus.  With that being said, today I am writing about something very close to my heart.  This is not a rant, yet I feel the need to voice these words somewhere.  So, here it goes…

I hate this time of year.  I hate it with such an incredible passion, yet I am disappointed in myself for feeling this way.  Spring is a beautiful time of year, especially in the South.  Everything springs back to life after several months of appearing “dead.”  At the start of spring, I am happy–happy winter is coming to an end, happy that I can leave my windows and doors open, happy the air is warm, and happy to see all of the beautiful colors of spring.  Yet, when the month of April shows her face, I become increasingly dismal, and the closer it gets to May, the worse I become.  Every year I make an earnest attempt to not feel this way, yet every year it is the same.

April is the month in which I had the absolute worst experience I have ever had in my life–the loss of a child.  I’ll never forget the feeling of surprise and excitement my husband and I had when we found out I was pregnant.  I would have to say that was the best feeling in the world.  Yet, this feeling was short-lived.  Despite our having done everything right, it just wasn’t meant to be at that time, and we lost our precious gift.  The pain that followed has never really ceased.  Days are more bearable as the years go on, but the pain never goes away.  If anyone tells you it does, then they are a liar.  I’m sorry.  It’s true.  You’ll get up and go about your day, but don’t think a minute goes by in which you do not think about such a loss.  Maybe a blessing of another child would help to ease the pain and the days, but that has not been my case.  Not only have I lost such a beautiful blessing but I have also been plagued with the struggle to conceive again.  It’s not impossible, but it surely is challenging.  And, this is where my so-called rant begins.

What bothers me, especially during this time of year, is when I see mothers complain about having to do something for her child(ren) or about not having enough time for herself.  Let me tell you something, woman.  Thank God for that “nuisance.”  Thank God for that five minutes you get alone.  Even better, thank God for all of the other minutes filled with time shared with your child.  You don’t know what it is like to be the woman wishing, hoping, and praying for just a little bit of that time to have with her own.  You don’t know what it is like to be the woman praying every single night to have just one blessing in a little one of her own.

Yeah, I have been told to get over it and to let it go, but unless you are in a woman’s shoes whom has a very slim chance of having a child, you don’t get to say these words to her.  You don’t have to possess her strength to carry on during such a rough time of year.  You get to see your babies.  You get to hold them tight.  You get to have the whole “Mother’s Day” experience.  You get to watch them grow older.  You get to wipe away their tears.  You get to smile and laugh as they do the same.  Yet, some of us are stuck on the outside looking in wondering what it would be like to just have one of those experiences.

To those women who get to experience such joys, please take a minute every day to thank God for your blessings.  To those women who know the pain, the want, the emptiness in which I speak, know that you are not alone.  I pray for comfort in your hearts and for blessings to be yours.

Happy Mother’s Day to all women (those with Earthly blessings and those with Heavenly angels).

The World is Full of Hypocrites

The world is full of hypocrites. It’s a shame but true. For that matter, there is a little bit of hypocrite in all of us. I know. I know. You don’t like hearing that. You are currently thinking to yourself, “Psh. I’m not a hypocrite.” Guess what. Yes, you are; I am, too. I don’t like it either, but it is the truth.

Now, I am not referring to only religious hypocrites. We all know this kind of hypocrite: the kind that attends church every Wednesday, Sunday, and religious day of obligation and preaches a specific lifestyle yet does the complete opposite of what he or she preaches (Yeah, you know the woman that preaches against gossip yet gets in a corner with all of her friends and begins gossiping about the poor woman trying to make ends meet for her children). These kinds of hypocrites disgust me; I won’t lie about that one. Don’t get me wrong. I attend church, but I am not a regular. I strive to do better, but I get selfish when it comes to my desire for sleep during a busy period during my work schedule. But, here is the difference: I don’t preach at people about the way they are living and turn around and do the opposite. As a matter of fact, I don’t preach at anyone at all when it comes to anything religious. I don’t want someone preaching at me, and I believe firmly in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. And, I recognize that I have absolutely no place in telling anyone about anything religious when I can’t even make it to church every single Sunday. So, yeah, my being a hypocrite does not fall in the category of being a religious hypocrite, but I certainly do have a place as do all of us.

According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a hypocrite is one who is “feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not,” or one who has “the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion.” Now, some of you are thinking, “No. I do not fit that definition, so there is absolutely no way I am a hypocrite. This woman is wrong and has lost her mind.” But, here is what I would like to point out to you: Notice that use of the conjunction “or.” That one little, two-letter word holds a lot of weight. A hypocrite is not just about being a hypocrite in the area of religion; it is about putting on the appearance of being one way when one is truly not. This applies to the intentional and the unintentional. If one says another is wrong for doing something a certain way or for believing a certain way or for simply being a certain way yet does exactly what it is he or she condemns, then that is an intentional hypocrite. Then, there is the unintentional hypocrite: one who does not even realize that he or she does what is found to be wrong in his or her eyes. That one is me. I am the unintentional hypocrite. There have been a few occasions in which I have had it pointed out to me that I hold others to a certain standard to which I do not necessarily hold myself. It’s not right. I don’t like it, and I strive to do better.

Here’s the deal, though. We are all human. Not a single person placed on this earth is perfect by any means. Not me. Not you. Not your neighbor. No one. Recognize this fact, accept it, and strive to do better. That’s all that can be done. And, dear God, people, stop trying to act like you are better than others for whatever reason. You are not allowed to judge; only one has the ability to do that, and it isn’t a single one of any of us. Accept all as human. Like it or lump it and move on.

But, these are just the views of a Southern girl…