Forbidden Tears

It comes quickly, silently

In moments when I’m unprepared

This deep, gulping sense

That there are a thousand tears

Curled up and mashed together deep inside

.

They are forbidden tears

Too little time to give them any notice.

Too little energy

.

If I had capacity

I might look at them one day

Bring them into the light

One by one

And ask which moment it reflected

.

Was it my sinking dreams

That my baby had Downs Syndrome?

Was it my fear he would never live?

Was it one of the moments when he stopped breathing

Or when they put his heart on pause for heart surgery?

.

Was it when I saw other people’s healthy children

Reaching all their normal milestones?

Or was it when my son no longer looked at me

And I had to come to terms

With diagnoses like brain damage and epilepsy?

.

Was it looking at my older son at night

Thinking of how little I had to give

Or was it when I was packing yet another hospital bag?

Was it an uncontained moment

Of wild emotions and swirling rage?

When I had passed all ability to filter anything

And I truly wondered if my baby’s journey

Would cost my own?

.

Which of these moments

Did these forbidden tears capture?

.

They stand as markers

These silent tears

Prisms of repressed emotions and agonies

Of colliding hopes, dreams and crushed realities

.

One day I’ll look at them

And honour each moment they could not be shed

And I will remind myself

That while they could not be shed then

They are now collections of moments

That have passed

Memories that no longer have power

.

One day I hope to be able

To let those tears flow

And then to be able

To let those moments go.