It was said that she should never marry. That she should never have children. I can remember that day. For the most part I choose not to remember it but it lives within the recesses of my mind. My daughter. My only daughter. So truly unreachable.
I sat across from this man, this "professional" as he went on about her. Had he stared into her eyes on the first moment that she had drawn a breath. Had he held her and felt her silky newborn skin. Had the twinkle in her eyes and the magic in her voice ever come close to filling the very core of him as it had mine. His limited experience of her had brought him to write her life off as a waste. At best a lonely individual incapable of walking within the boundaries of reality. At worst ... well, at worst I don't even want to know what his thoughts were. He had spoken too many of them already.....
He was about to be born. The first grandchild. We hovered outside the door. Paced the hallways. Lingered over cups of coffee. And there I sat at the round table in the waiting room. My finger tracing the circle of the top of my paper coffee cup. Thinking back upon those days... hearing the "professional's" opinion in my head. She was about to be a mother. She had been a wife. My heart was in my throat. Would she be able to do this? Would she be ok? Would they be ok? The joy and excitement of new life was metered by the deep ache inside my heart.
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