Our adopted son has Down's Syndrome he is now 17 and our family is blessed by his presence. I wrote this poem for him.
MY SON
My son, you were not ripped timely or untimely from my womb.
Your entrance into time and space caused me no discomfort.
Your first cry was unheard by me, I did not experience the first precious cuddle.
The first thirteen months in anothers care, me unaware of your being.
The collision of our orbits was like an emotional birth full of love, joy and wonder.
No matter that you will never reach the heights of academia, or make a monetary fortune.
The bank of your soul is overflowing with riches; your happy, loving nature keeps your account in credit.
Your existence is a cause for celebration, not regret, and I can truly say it is a privilege to be your mother, my son.
Rose-Mary Gower
2001
Copyright Rose-Mary Gower 2001
MY SON
My son, you were not ripped timely or untimely from my womb.
Your entrance into time and space caused me no discomfort.
Your first cry was unheard by me, I did not experience the first precious cuddle.
The first thirteen months in anothers care, me unaware of your being.
The collision of our orbits was like an emotional birth full of love, joy and wonder.
No matter that you will never reach the heights of academia, or make a monetary fortune.
The bank of your soul is overflowing with riches; your happy, loving nature keeps your account in credit.
Your existence is a cause for celebration, not regret, and I can truly say it is a privilege to be your mother, my son.
Rose-Mary Gower
2001
Copyright Rose-Mary Gower 2001
