A poem

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   For when its tough going (as parenthood often is ) 

Lord, help me remember, when I feel its a chore,

the time will come when i'll hold him no more

asleep on my chest (the crib refused,the blanket,the pacifier,gone unused)

What better place is there to lay his head, than against my heart, my arms, his bed

For infants grow up and leave us behind

with only memories left to remind

us of midnight walking and predawn rocking,

of soft helpless babies unable to sleep.

So Lord, make me patient and keep me awake

while I cradle this baby,and don't let me take

for granted the moments I spend in the night

with this baby, my joy, my gift, my delight.