“Waiting on a Wee One (O’Brien’s Lass)”
with love

There’s laughter in the kitchen,
A hum in every hall.
The O’Briens are all buzzing
Awaiting someone small.

The kettle sings more sweetly,
The days are dressed in cheer,
For a miracle is growing,
And her debut time draws near.

We toss around sweet names like Maeve,
Saoirse, Niamh, or Róisín
Each one like a lullaby
For the baby of our dreams.

She’s Irish, she’s a wonder,
She’s the first of Alden’s line,
With a dad like kindhearted Kevin.
This child is sure to shine.

She’ll bear the name O’Brien,
With pride and grace and grin~
A fierce and gentle warrior,
With all her roots tucked in.

So Alden, through the cravings,
The waddles and the sighs—
Know every ache and flutter
Brings you closer to those eyes.

And Kevin, soon you’ll master
The swaddle and the song—
You’ll rock her through the midnight hours
When the nights feel extra long.

There’s magic in her heartbeat,
There’s stardust in her kicks

And a family here behind her
With open arms and tricks.

We’re counting down the moments
‘Til we meet this mighty lass

The very first O’Brien girl
To shake up all our past.

So here’s to joy and diapers,
To bottles, love, and grace.
We already love her dearly
Though we’ve yet to see her face.

So… you’re having a baby? Oh heavens, oh dear!
Prepare for the chaos, the diapers, the cheer!
There’ll be giggles and burping and onesies galore,
And toys you will trip on from bedroom to floor.

You’ll learn to survive without sleep (more or less),
You’ll Google strange rashes and babyproof stress.
You’ll master the swaddle, the bottle, the “shhh,”
While whispering prayers during midnight **** squish.

Your fridge will be filled with things puréed and bland,
And “me time” now means wiping spit off your hand.
Romance might be “Did you wash the pump parts?”
And “date night” is counting your baby’s heart farts.

But through all the madness, the bottles and binkies,
The strollers, the coos, and the blowouts in pinkies.
One thing stays true as the months pass you by:
Your village is here. (Yes. We mean us… hi.)

We’ll show up with casseroles, wipes, and advice,
(Some helpful, some weird, and some… not so nice).
We’ll offer to babysit—yes, even at two!
(Okay, maybe three. But we’ll show up. For you.)

You might roll your eyes, wish we’d give you some space,
But we’ll still be lurking with gifts and a face~
The face that says “Please… just one cuddle, I beg.”
We don’t need much. Just a sniff of a leg.

So Alden, dear Kevin, from now till you’re grey,
We’re here every tantrum, each night, every day.
You’ve got this! But when you feel tired or small.
Don’t forget: You’re not doing this solo at all.

We’ll be right beside you, and yes, slightly pushy,
With pockets of tissues and cheeks that are cushy.
We’re family, we’re loud, and we love you like crazy~
And honestly? We just want to hold that baby.

Oh child,
so young to be alone,
no means to cope,
left sobbing on gravestones,
void of all hope.

Now searching for a home,
the old one now torn,
wanting for what’s gone,
lost is the memory
forlorn.

When all those who passed,
love’s shadow is cast,
young sorrow to last,
Left aging so fast.

Safer
without the one
who claimed to make us safe.

You enriched those
who tithed to your cause,
while silencing
every voice
that dared to speak
against your racism.

You stripped the rights
that held the powerful in check
eliminated
what bound the governed
to justice.

You cast long, dark shadows
over refugees
our laws once shielded.

You widened the chasm
between have and have-not.

Propitiated wealth
while deep pockets
overflowed
on the backs of the broken.

And still,
you called it freedom.

But I know
it would be
a better world
without you.

Last night, I found it hard to sleep,
Your memory continued to creep
Into my mind you found a space ,
A joyful spot where memories chase
The thoughts I simply can’t escape,
Down deep into my happy place.

A vision of you danced all around,
An angelic form without a sound.

You kept me staring all night long,
That memory played like a favorite song.

It’s morning now, and I embrace
Those dreams that showed this Angeles face.

The tone of your sorrow
I could not shout above.
It was buried…
too deep.
Like tears the soul forgets
to weep.

There was sadness in your eyes,
but only in the shadow you cast
when the light
tried
to love you.

You were the only one
the only one
I ever loved.
But I couldn’t break
the hardness of your heart.

I couldn’t shake
the silence
that stood where tenderness
should start.

Yes
you shared your love with me.
But even love
couldn’t undo the ache.

Some wounds
they’re just
too proud
to break.

Changing the Message
We need to change the way we speak to our children.
The stories we hand down—the warnings, the guilt, the fear—they shape not just how our children see the world, but how they believe they’re allowed to exist in it.

If we change the message, we can change perception.
If we change perception, we can change the future.

Too often, we speak in threats:
“There are too many people.”
“There isn’t enough to go around.”
“If you don’t act now, it’ll be too late.”
“If you don’t obey, you don’t deserve love, or joy, or even salvation.”

Even religion, once intended to teach love and restraint, has become a source of shame.
Yes, faith gave us structure. It helped early societies define right from wrong.
But today, that same faith—especially in the form of Christianity—has been co-opted.
Twisted into politics.
Wielded as a weapon.
Used to divide, to judge, to impose guilt instead of grace.

People are made to feel like their worth is tied to obedience.
Like their future depends on conformity.
And like the only way to be “good” is to believe exactly what they’re told.

That is not the message we want our children to inherit.
That is not the kind of future we want them to build.

We must evolve.
Keep the compassion. Keep the reverence. Keep the community.
But strip away the guilt.
Cut out the fear.
Unravel the political agendas wrapped in scripture.

We are not here to raise children who cower.
We are here to raise children who create.

So I ask again:
How do we change the message?
How do we raise a generation that is grounded in truth, guided by empathy, and free from inherited fear?