The Poem I Wrote to My Unborn Child
She's three now. The poem is still on my desk.
My daughter is three now, and the poem I wrote to her before she was born is still on my desk. I wrote it in the hospital, in the waiting room, the night before she was due, when the fear was too big to hold and the hope was too fragile to say out loud.
I wrote about the way she was kicking, the way she was already a person before she was born, the way the world was waiting for her. I wrote about the way I was afraid, the way I was hoping, the way I was already in love with a person I had never met.
I didn't read it to her. She couldn't hear it. The poem was not for her ears; it was for her memory, the one she was building even then, the one that would hold the sound of her father writing to her before she was born.
I keep the poem on my desk now, next to the photo of her at three. The photo is the proof that she is here. The poem is the proof that I was there, waiting, before she was.
She will read it when she is ready. I will be here when she does. The poem is the bridge between the waiting and the being, and the bridge is the point.
By Team Writory, for Writory.
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