Let me take you home.

Tender, like the first drops of rain you notice on your skin. I look up with eyes open wide, tell the sky not to cry. Ask it not to turn the tenderness in something I need to run from.


There’s no other word to describe you. Tender. A sudden feeling that washes over me. Your eyes full of things I have never seen before. As I sit here and wonder, will I still be able to look into this unknown world tonight, I cannot imagine what it would feel like, not to have you here.


The room feels too big to fill and I have read every single magazine over a dozen times. Hours pass but my love for you never will. Faces come and go but mine remains steady, every little inch of my skin, every flutter of my eyelid, the shiver on my bottom lip clustered to my frozen frame.


It feels like I’m not really here anymore. I’ve become a part of the mint green walls, the smell of disinfectants, the worried look on the face of the woman sitting across of me. I wonder if she’s scared too.


I’ve only known you for nine blind months  and a few bright days. I can’t remember who I was before I became your mother, it’s like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, like you finally made me complete. Let me take you home, my little raindrop, I don’t want it to storm tonight.


The words these doctors use to describe your condition, I don’t wish to ever understand what they mean. I just want them to know, the only thing a little baby is ought to need is to be held. I blame myself in a way, for your tiny heart already in despair and can’t help but think, have I broken your heart with mine?


I need you to fight. Show me this moment doesn’t mean anything. Just a little emergency stop along your journey towards a beautiful life. Maybe it’s better in a way, to go through the hurt at the beginning of the road, instead of meeting it halfway. Things can only get better from now on.


Tenderness, I can spot it on the doctor’s smiling face as he’s holding you, his feet guiding his body towards me. I’ve known it all along. My darling baby, you pulled through, just like I told you to.


Froe x


6 thoughts on “Let me take you home.

  1. Are you a mother, Froe? Cause I feel like only a mother could be this talented in explaining a mothers love for someone who has never yet experienced it. So beautiful. so amazing! The love of this mother made me smile, the words really touched me. Incredibly amazing. I have lost the words, my vocabulary is too small to describe you and your talent. I dont think any vocabulary will ever be big enough

    • I’m not a mother, not yet, but definitely can’t wait to have babies. I guess that’s why I could write this, a heart that longs to be a mother is a motherheart already x

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