Daughter
I named you, not your would-be mother, but me, your would-be father. Carmen Elizabeth, my rose, my angel, my sweet darling daughter.
I imagined how you would look, what you would get from me, what you would get from your mother. Who’s smile would shine from your little mouth? Would I kiss a tiny replica of my chin or your mother’s? Would your hair be golden-red like mine, dark chestnut like hers, or maybe something in between? Would you have her beautiful eyes, wide as the ocean, or would you have mine, narrow and aquamarine? I imagined those eyes learning my face and knowing love, my darling daughter.
I anticipated your cry, your laugh, your first words. I would be there with your mother when you were born, never leaving her side. I would see you take your first breath. I would smile at your mother as she lay exhausted but glowing, feeling no jealousy as you lay in her arms first, only an immense love, bigger than the sky, deeper than the earth, more constant than time, my darling daughter.
I would finally hold you, after the exertions of birth left you fast asleep, knowing, impossibly, that nothing in this world could hurt you when you are in my arms. I was so completely in love with the idea of you, my darling daughter.
I would hold your tiny hand, marvel at the fine little fingers, tiny nails, miniature knuckles, as you grip me tightly. I would hold your hand as you took your first steps. I would hold your hand as you walked to your first day of school. I would hold your hand, teaching you to dance. One day I would hold that same hand, grown and ready to leave home. I would cry as I let you go, but I would also smile, my darling daughter.
I would have loved you all of your life, no matter what. I would have protected you and taught you to love and value yourself. I would have told you every day how beautiful you were. I would have told you how you could be anything you wanted. I would have taught you to be good and kind. I would have been here for you always, no matter your mistakes. I would have always been your father, always loved you, always accepted you, I would always be there to hold you, my darling daughter.
Though you were unexpected, we both knew we wanted you. We talked about you with a light in our eyes. I held your mother as we both smiled at the thought of our little family, the things we would do, the places we’d see. Your mother never meant to hurt you, but she was sometimes sick and afraid and it caused her to do things she would not do otherwise. Please don’t blame her. I did enough of that. She wanted you. What she did, she did out of illness. I didn’t know until she finally told me what she had done. It was too late and you were gone, just like that, just another procedure. Your mother should never have passed the screening. A piece of me died with you that day, my darling daughter.
I never got to hear the sound of your voice, never got to hear you call me daddy, never knew your tiny hand, never heard your laugh, never calmed your tears. You should have seen the sun, you should have felt the wind. You should have heard me sing to you, my baby. You should be in my lap right now helping me write a much happier story, your little hands on the keyboard with mine, my darling daughter.
I hate having to add this, but I felt I needed to clarify that this is not a commentary on abortion. This is not fiction. My girlfriend had stopped taking medication for a mental health issue that, mixed with pregnancy, led to her experiencing an extreme state bordering on psychosis. The screening should have stopped it from happening, considering her state of mind, but it was not done or not done properly.
