Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone
but still Miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute
You did not grow under my heart
but in it.
by
Fleur Conkling Heyliger
A Beautiful Poem on Child Adoption
{ 9 comments… add one }
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domestikate August 20, 2009 at 11:34 am
That is so beautiful, I’ve welled up while reading it!
Eva March 25, 2010 at 7:27 am
wow….! what a heart …!
Soleil December 5, 2011 at 11:43 pm
I found this poem on a newspaper cut out when looking through my mother’s bureau since she passed away last Saturday. I’ve always known I was adopted so it wasn’t news to me but finding this touched me to the heart because it shows how great her love was for me – how she saw me – even when I wasn’t worthy of that love a lot of the time. Aren’t enough words to really say how deep that poem touches you.
ishrath December 11, 2011 at 3:21 pm
Soleil: Thank you so much for sharing this with me. Indeed, this poem has that impact. It is a feeling of helplessness that you cant express enough… but this poem sums it all.
Your mother is a good woman. You are lucky to have had her.
Soleil December 11, 2011 at 7:13 pm
Yes I was lucky. Very blessed. Thank you Ishrath
Pamela Winter July 28, 2012 at 1:54 am
I saw this poem first in an either Ann Landers or Dear Abby column, my mother had cut it out and one day after school, I came bouncing in, (I was in 5th grade) and she reached up and took this paper from a jar she kept on the mantle, and asked me to read it, so I did.. I pretended I didn’t understand it, when she asked if I did, and she told me to read it again, and I still told her I didn’t understand, and she told me “look, I know how smart you are, KNOW you understand, and I said NO, because I was afraid– I thought what was coming next was “pack your clothes, were taking you to Buckner Orphanage”. And hey, I knew that my brother and sister had been saying all my life that I hadn’t belonged, and had overheard my mom and step father many times over the years saying the same things, but I tried to push it aside, and not let it bother me, even though they would threaten me with taking me to Buckner orphanage when things would get tough around there, and it was hard to feed 3 kids.. But I really just wanted to say that that is only PART of the poem… The poem that was printed in that article was longer, and that was only one verse of it.. I’ve tried to find the original, but can only get that one verse now, and it’s a quote… Wish I could find the whole thing, because as soon as my mother heard my sister and brother on the front porch talking and about to come in the house, she snatched the poem from me, and put it back in the jar on the mantle and motioned “shhhhh” of course I went quiet, and excused myself to the bathroom and cried my eyes out, and the really bad part was, when I came out, nobody seemed to notice that my eyes were all puffy and red from crying… I told them about that poem after mother passed away, and they didn’t believe me, or that the poem existed, so I’d really like to find the entire poem… Just thought you’d like to know that there is more to the poem….Thanks!
ishrath July 29, 2012 at 2:47 pm
Pamela: There is always a lot more than what is found. I believe that when we are ready, things will happen.
I also believe that we end up chasing something so distant that we may forget the present. And that present are these few words that mean a world to you and me.
Im sure that if we search, we can find it. If I find them, I will post here. And if you do, let me know too.
Shanda February 3, 2013 at 7:52 pm
I was in the ER with my foster baby and the nurse asked me if I planned to adopted her I quickly responded oh yes I’ve been waiting on her all my life I knew from the moment We picked her up @ the hospital and they laid her in my arms she would have my heart . The nurse turned around and read me a poem her mom gave her ( she too was adopted) and it was this poem I cryed like a baby she told me Lele was a lucky lil girl I told her I was the lucky one
Pamela Waaka May 11, 2013 at 1:42 am
47 years ago whilst waiting in the Waiting Room of the Sydney (Australia) office of the Child Welfare Department for the papers of our first adoption and very nervous I found this poem framed and hanging on the wall and its simplicity and sincerity made us feel so much more at ease. I now have three adopted children and when each of them was born I had this poem done onto a small wall tile and hung it over their beds, they then always knew that they meant so much to us and from the very beginning they knew that they were adopted (no secrets)