I used to worry about when my time came, and I made it up to heaven, if you would know me. If you would know that I was your Mama.
The day you were born, I only got to see you for a few minutes before they wheeled you away. You were black hair, pink cheeks, and even from feet away, mine.
After that I didn't get to see you for one whole day. You were too little to leave the nursery and my body wouldn't let me get to you. It was terrible. I cried and cried, and asked anyone who would listen if you would know me. If you would know I was your Mama.
But you did. You did, you did, you did.
The moment you heard my voice, the minute you were in my arms, it was so obvious you had very literally been a part of me and that nothing could make either of us forget that.
Even as you took your last breaths on this earth, I knew you were at peace because I felt your peace in my arms. That was a gift you gave to me.
So I don't worry about it anymore. When I see you in Heaven, I will know you and you will know me. We are part of one another. You will always know me.
I will always be,