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A mother’s lesson in futility

(Originally published by Nattie on December 23, 2003)

Don’t touch my baby.
I gave birth to her.
I craddled her in my womb for nine months. I prayed daily, and often hourly, for her safe delivery.

I nursed her.
I rocked her when she was colicky.
I changed her diapers.
I picked out her pretty pink clothes.

I watched her roll over.
I watched her crawl.
I stood anxiously by as she took her first step.

I’ve invested all my heart in her.
Keep your dirty paws off her.
She cut her first tooth gnawing on my fingers. She ate her first solid food from the spoon I held.
She spoke her first word while sitting on my knee.
She is not yours.

You cannot have her.
I am her guardian angel.
Until God sees fit to call her home,
No devil disguised as placenta previa,
or a nuchal cord,
or a heart murmur can have her.
She is mine.

Others may think they have a claim to her and I might relenquish care to them for a moment. But when they are through,
I am here waiting.

I’ll be the one chewing my nails as she goes to kindergarten,
And rides the bus for the first time.
I’ll be the one gripping my chair
when she learns to drive.

I’ll be the one taking pictures of her in a prom dress, cap and gown, and wedding garb.
I may not be giving her away,
But I’ll be the one who gives her “something old”
To hold as she walks down the aisle.

Keep your hands off.
You can’t have her yet.
God is the only one who is allowed to have her…
And I haven’t told him it is okay, yet.

Copyright Natalie Rose York

2 Responses to “A mother’s lesson in futility”

  1. Heather Says:

    Oh, Nat. Sigh…

  2. StephanieG Says:


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