Nothing To Hold
She sleeps soundly, dreaming that she's far away
from the nightmare that she has just endured.
I take her hand, thankful that at least I still have her.
I let go, and look at hands, and I can feel the tears
coming down my face once again.
These hands should be holding our son, the precious
little baby that we created out of love.
This arm should be supporting his tiny head, and I should
be looking into his eyes, saying "I'm your daddy."
She should be smiling, not looking like the living dead
from a birth that almost killed her.
This wasn't how it was suppose to be…
I should've been holding her hand, comforting
her through the struggles of bringing our son
into the world…
I should've been the one to cut his cord; severing
him from his mother's insides…
I should've been there at his side as they swaddled
him into a million blankets…
I should've been the one to put him in my wife's arms…
All of this was taken from me…oh how I wish that the joy's of a new father hadn't of faded from my grasp!
Would he have had my eyes?
Would he have had her smile?
Would he have had my hair?
Would he have looked like me or her?
I will never know for, I am left with nothing to hold…