Who Took My Baby

I wrote this poem for my son's birthday this year. He has children of his own, so he's better equipped to understand how quickly they grow up and away. I wanted it to inspire him to savor every moment he has with his boys. He's a good Dad. I'm proud of him. The pictures are of Joel with his newest addition to the family.

"Who Took My Baby?"
©2008, Janet K. Poludniak

I'll never forget the day you came
and made you're mark, my heart to claim.
So sweet, so gentle, and needing me
to shield, protect, then set you free.
I held you in my weary arms . . .
admiring your baby charms:
you had his nose, and big, blue eyes.
You'd eat and sleep; ‘twas no surprise.

"What name shall I give this burly boy . . .
ten pounds, nine ounces full of joy.
No nicknames for this child of mine:
Joel David! Yes, that sounds divine.
So new, so perfect . . . firstborn son,
nothing changes that, dear one."
I blinked and wondered, "My you've grown.
Who'd have dreamed; who could have known."

"Jabber, jabber, ma-ma-ma,
Da-da, da-da, baa-baa-baa."
You climbed o'er the high crib rail,
and tumbled from that tiny jail.

I turned a moment and he was gone,
that babe I'd put my hopes upon.
"Who took my baby? Where'd he go?
And left this child that toddles so?"
It was amazing how he grew;
already, that little boy is two!
And he is into everything;
so cute . . . he loves to dance and sing.

I turned again, and mercy, me!
I found that child . . . already three.
He begged to bounce upon my knee,
"Mommy, will you play with me?"

"Who took my baby? Where'd he go,
and left this child that rambles so?
Questions. Questions, all day long;
I've no idea what went wrong.
Why this? Why that? I cannot say,
I just know . . . he's four today."
"Why do bugs fly when they have legs?
This round hole won't take square pegs!"

I turned and he was gone again.
I wondered, "Who does this, and when?
Who took my baby? Where'd he go?
And left this boy that I don't know?
He calls me ‘Mommy' but he's so big,
and now he sports a real hair wig.
My baby's bald; can't speak a word,
coos and cries are all I've heard."

Pretty soon, that boy turned five;
there was no doubt . . . he was alive!
He'd climb to heights that made me weak,
but got back down ‘fore I could speak.

"Who took my baby? Where can he be?
and left this boy so big, carefree?"
"Mommy, mommy, come see my pet!"
My nerves have not settled yet.
A yellow monster came to the house.
It swallowed him like a tiny mouse.
I cried and felt so all alone;
I called my mother on the phone:

"A monster came . . . took him away."
I sobbed, "There's no one here to play."

"If it was yellow, don't dismay;
they'll bring him back ‘fore close of day."

"Who took my baby? I miss him so!
Where to search, I do not know.
Where's my baby; where can he be?
Please bring my baby back to me."
That yellow monster came at four
and spit that boy back out the door.
"He's back, this child I do not know,
this one for whom my heart longed so!

It seems it was just yesterday
that someone took that boy away.
So much change . . . can't comprehend,
I love to sit and remember when . . . .
He's tall and handsome, eyes still blue,
I look and wonder, "Who are you?"
He smiles and hugs me, "Mom, you know.
I'm that babe from long ago."

"Who took my baby boy away,
the one who used to laugh and play
and left instead a full-grown man
Who, indeed, has hatched this plan?"

I smile and think, "God meant it so
when they've grown, then off they go.
No more monsters in the night;
no more teaching wrong from right.
Now they've grown, they'll make their way,
but still a mother has to pray:
‘God, You hold him in Your arms,
admiring his manly charms.'

‘Bring him safely home one day,
in answer to the prayers I pray.
Make him strong in faith and love
until we meet again above.'"

Story ID:	3794
Written by:	JANET KESSLER POLUDNIAK (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	JUST ME
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Cayuga NY USA
Year:	2008
Person:	Written for my son--anyone.