What I Already Knew

I already knew when you were due to arrive.
I felt the joy you’d bring.
The happiness you’d spread,
I knew you were going to be a little brother with a big sister to show you the way.
And the name we had chosen for you
Had it’s own sweet rhythm.
What I already knew
Is that you were loved.
Grandparents had secretly stashed the outfits that would
Wiggle onto your tiny frame one day.
And friends sent congratulations at every turn.
Strangers had just begun to ask the questions they always do
And to reach out their hand
Poised to touch a swelling belly.
The risks I knew that hung above me seemed so far away,
Like looking into the wrong end of a pair of binoculars.
Nobody expects their pregnancy to end in anything but joy.
Nobody expects to know,
What I already knew.
Two and a half weeks that time has
Frozen in my memory
Are what I was allowed to know,
All I will ever know.
Everything I will always treasure.
Tuesday
5:04 am
2 pounds
13 inches
Blue eyes
Blonde peach-fuzz hair
A spitting image of his sister and his Daddy.
Too early.
Too young.
A delicate head that fits in the palm of my hand.
Soft, transparent skin.
Lips as red as cherry lifesavers.
But mostly, hands with long pink fingers
Wrapped around mine.
Brandan.
What I will only know.
I never knew a smile that would
Dance across your face.
Or eyes that would twinkle,
Glimmering in a moment of discovery.
A first step trodding upon the cool grass
Will remain a secret mystery.
I never thought he wouldn’t come home.
When the phone rang at 1:00am,
I think they’ll never tell me,
Never actually say the words
Of what I already knew.
He is gone.
He comes to us for a snapshot in time.
In a private room with empty walls
And emptiness that already begins to fill our hearts.
Small.
Still.
Wrapped in a hospital blanket.
No breath.
No cry.
Beautiful.
At peace.
I hold him for the first time.
As I thought I always would.
And I hold him for the last time.
Like I never thought I would.
This was nothing like
What I already knew.
How long does it take to heal?
A lifetime?
Maybe more.
I tightly hold my husband’s hand.
My arms envelop my daughter.
Only my heart and mind hold my only son.
I will try again.
Someday.
Next time wiser and less naive,
Because of what I already know.