Friday, August 7, 2009


What was it like to feel like that;
to smile like that;
in a way that was not forced
or masking a great pain?
My eyes scan the glossy photos,
desperately searching for something familiar.
Who was this girl with the content expression,
did she sense nothing of the road ahead?
Something in me wants to scream at her
for being so gullible,
for expecting so much,
for not knowing this could happen.
I can hardly look at her,
feeling disgusted,
or envious,
or both.
Something in me wants to shake her,
to warn her,
to help her prepare.
I wish I could save her
from the grief that will gray her blue eyes,
and the worry and pain
that will bring wrinkles in her twenties,
and a dullness to her face.
It was only ten months ago,
how could she look so young,
so happy,
so carefree?
I wonder what it would take,
for that expression to return,
but know that the pain of this loss has made that impossible.
That expression,
that feeling,
is reserved for the innocent.
This girl who looks back at me from the photo,
this former me,
this wellspring of naive anticipation,
is now a stranger.
~Kristin Binder


  1. I sometimes have this feeling too.
    I wish I could have warned my past self.
    Envious and disgusted is exactly right.

    I'm so sorry that you know this feeling. I'm so sorry that you lost your sweet daughter.

  2. There are days where my words fail me. Today is one of those days. I'm so sorry you know the pain of not only losing your beloved baby girl, but you know the pain of watching her fight that horrible disease.

  3. Ah, yes. All so sadly true. (((hugs)))

  4. I totally understand... It seems like every memory of mine is measured by the "before Freja," time and the "after Freja" time. I think back to how naive I was before she was born, how I somehow thought I was invincible to these things happening to MY child. And even after her diagnosis and the negativity coming from all the doctors, I somehow held so much hope in my heart that she would beat the odds. She beat the odds making it to full-term and being born alive. It just... still makes my heart jump into my throat to think about it all. I don't know how I'd ever be able to find that innocence and profound joy again. I feel like I'm always looking over my shoulder, trying to see what will attack me next. I know that time goes on.... I can truly see that now, while at first I really didn't have faith that even that could continue.... But I do know that my spirit has been damaged by the hurt... ((hugs)) to you. You and your sweet Peyton will be in my thoughts. What a beautiful picture of you guys at the top of your blog... I love how she's looking into your eyes.

  5. usual. Each time I think of you and your sweet family, my eyes fill up with tears and my heart aches for you. I never knew it was possible to "miss" someone that you've never met- let alone even know. Please know that I am specifically praying for strength, peace, and hope for you.

  6. WTH are you talking about? The last time I saw you, you looked great. I have quite a fine line between my cheek and mouth. It... brings out my smirk ;)?

    Just trying to bring you some humor. Great poem. Big, squishy hug for you and see you soon!

  7. I found you through another blog. I just wanted to say that this poem describes how I feel and is beautifully written. My husband told me innocently after we lost our daughter that my eyes were more grey than blue now. Wow. I didn't realize my grief was physically visible. I'm so sorry for your loss. Peyton was gorgeous!