Living With Your Heart Outside Your Body

I was in trouble again. I'd just awakened our baby- again. Most mothers want their new baby to sleep; That was their most prolific time of day, But not me; I was too afraid. Sudden infant death was known To stalk new babies; How could I be sure Death wasn't stalking her this very moment; Slowing her breaths, her heartbeats, Taking her away, by one sly degree at a time To the land where there are no sweet baby dreams. That cry of awakening was a drug for me; A reassurance. I needed my fix. I couldn't stop doing it. But babies need their sleep. So one day, her father sat down calmly And he told me, She wants to keep living much more strongly Than you could ever wish it for her; Her being is strong and it has an incredible Will to stay alive. Somehow, I finally got it. Years later, and somebody had to give me The adult version of this talk; she was nearly grown; You can't live her life for her, can't suffer All her pains for her, instead. How many more times will I need reminding- How many more days will she live On the outside of my body, instead?