You complain because your kids kept you up all night.
I’m up all night because my child is not here anymore.
You complain because your child doesn’t listen to you.
I call out for my child, wishing they would answer.
You complain because kids are so expensive.
My last purchase for my child was flowers for their grave.
You complain because of the mess your child leaves behind.
I stand alone in their empty room, wishing there was a mess to clean up.
You complain because your kid talks back to you.
I long for one last conversation with the child I lost.
You complain because you never have any peace and quiet.
I long for the happy sounds from my child and hate the quiet because it bring no peace.
You complain because of all the running and errands you do for your child.
I sit alone in my car, talking to a child no longer there, wishing there was something – anything I could do for him.
You complain when your child calls you over silly things or interrupts your day.
I stare at my phone and wish it would ring, so I could hear my child’s voice at the other end.
You complain that you never get time for yourself.
I hate the time alone because it reminds me of what I lost.
(Heather Blair, writing for still standing magazine)