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Gentle Spirit Doulas...
Poems

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I'm in place that's soft and warm.
My organs now completely formed.
I grow so quickly it's hard to see
the difference between you an me.
I hear my Mommy's heart beat strong.
A lullaby to me, a song.
With her every movement to and fro.
She rocks me gently, with love, I know.
As she goes about her busy way.
She thinks about me all the day.
She thinks of diapers and runny nose.
She ponders tiny hands and toes.
She knows a wonder I will be.
Mom and Dad both in me.
Will I look like my big Bro?
How fast or slow will I grow?
God's already chosen boy or girl.
My hair to be straight or curled.
Right now inside my Mom I'm safe.
Secure and cuddled in that hidden place.
I know not worry or troubled times.
I feel comfort. I'm completely fine.
In these many months to come
Mom and I get one on one.
But when I'm born I know that then.
This precious time will surely end.

-Elizabeth Dempsey

 

 

Laboring Reflections

 

Can't tell when those contractions

will dare to present

Makin' you act a little indecent.

Blame Eve, if you will,

for the pain you're a-feeling

Can't be no worse than a-paintin' the ceiling.

 

For the "pain" Eve was cursed with

in the Garden of Eden

In bringin' forth children

after man put his seed in

Is the same "toil" man's cursed with

to work in the field

Turnin' a profit and increasin' his yield.

 

Does man labor each day

on a spinal and pain med?

Or lay on his bed to get way ahead?

No, he faces each day

on his feet with a purpose

And works with his muscles

to provide as he must.

 

Now a womans no different

as far as the meds

When she labors with baby

to get out the head

In the bed?  On a med?

to deliver this head?

Its as silly as putty,

I think, so she said.

 

So on your feet during labor

and work with that muscle;

Face contractions head on

as you hustle and bustle.

The time will be short as you toil to rest

And soon that sweet baby

will be at your Breast.

 

~ Bernadette Clark


Growing Season

I am so tiny no one can see me.
I'm hidden in the most intimate place
God is delicately knitting me together
He alone knows me now
He knows what I look like
His hand is on my heart as He forms it
God's hand is on my Mother as
her body announces my presence
His hand is on my Father as he
ponders my existence
God was thinking of my siblings when
he precipitated my creation
I was not made by chance
Everything has a time and a season
Right now my family is in the most glorious
of seasons - The Growing Season.
God is growing my parents through me.
God is shaping us all in his perfect timing
God is teaching my Mom how strong she is.
How beautiful and precious she is.
God has entrusted three beautiful treasures
to her and he doesn't make mistakes.
God sees my Mom's servant heart.
God takes Mommy's heart in his hands
and shapes it....
Yes sometimes it's painful but
it's always for the best.
God is teaching my Daddy how to be selfless.
My Daddy sees me and will grow through me.
If I could tell my Mommy how much
God loves her I would.
Just my very existence should tell her.
God is whispering, "I love you."
Sometimes it's hard to hear God's whisper.
One day my parents will take me by the hand
and I will learn some wonderful bible stories.
Like a story of a woman named Sarah who
was too old to have a baby.
Sarah heard a stranger tell her husband that
she was going to have a baby.
Sarah laughed and God said
"Is anything too hard for the Lord?"
So I ask you,
Is anything too hard for the Lord?

-Elizabeth Dempsey

I'm Sure He's The One
 
On the first of September,
it happened
I heard a miracle from heaven,
here are the words:
Send Brandon Collins
to Camelot and Nancy,
in a special package,
it must be fancy!
I've picked Brandon to send,
Yes, I'm sure he's the one,
I know their desire to have a fine son.
A fine son he will be
to his father and mother,
a beautiful child,
unlike any other.
He will be a blessing
beyond compare,
he will have respect for others,
and love to spare.
Hold him and love him,
you've been foretold,
Brandon, my son,
is more precious than gold!
 
- Susan Woodhouse

What is Support?
 
Support is unconditional.
   It is listening...
    not judging,
not telling your own story.
Support is not offering advice...
it is offering a handkerchief, a touch, a hug...caring.
We are here to help women discover what they are feeling...
not to make the feelings go away.
We are here to help a woman identify her options...
not to tell her which options to choose.
We are here to discuss steps with a woman...
not to take the steps for her.
We are here to help a woman discover she can help herself...not to take that responsibiliy for her.
We are here to help a woman learn to choose...
not to make it unnecessary for her to make difficult choices.
-Anonymous

A Childs Angel

Once upon a time, there was a child in heaven about to be born. As she stood before Gods throne, she asked, "They tell me that you are sending me to earth tomorrow. How am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"
"Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you."
"But here in heaven I sing and smile. That is enough for me to be happy."
"Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day. You will feel your angels love and be happy."
"And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me? I do not know the language that they speak on earth."
"Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."
"And what will I do when I need to talk to you?"
"Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."
"I have heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?"
"Your angel will protect you, even if it means risking its own life."
"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."
"Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way to come back to me, even though I will always be with you."
At that moment, there was great excitement in heaven. The choirs of angels raised their voices, and a bright light began to surround the young child. She began to hear earthly voices from the delivery room at the hospital and was drawn toward a long, bright tunnel.
Suddenly, the child thought of one final question: "Oh, God, if I am about to leave you, please tell me my angels name."
My child, He smiled, "You will call your angel, Mommy."

-Author Unknown-