Welcome To The World, Baby Girl
When all of this is over, and the tubes have been taken from your nose and the needles from your arm, we will take you into the world so that you may explore its wonder. You will go where we go, a passenger on every trip, no matter how small it may be. We must make up for lost time. We will visit every park and every zoo, and capture images of your wonder. Our little family will be sure to explore all we can of what lies around us, waiting to be discovered. I see the curiosity that gleams within your big brown eyes; I know it because it glows in mine.
Once we take you from that sixth floor ward, you’ll know what it’s like to feel the touch of Mommy’s skin, to feel my fingertips run smoothly across your dark mess of hair, unhindered by the latex that tends to tug at the strands you and I worked so hard to grow. You will know my kiss upon your cheek, and will have a chance to study the whole of my face- the slope of my nose, the fullness of my lips, the roundness of my chin- instead of settling for the glimpses caught during those moments in which I am feeling bold enough to pull down my mask and sneak a whiff of your scent.
Your Nanas and Papas will come to know your face through more than video feeds and smartphone screens. Their smiles will fill your memories, and replace any recollection you may have of the masked strangers that tended to your every need. Kind as they have been, their gentle hand is no match for the love that exudes from a mother’s touch. You will rarely leave your father’s arms as he makes up for all the nights he could not hold you. I will be by his side, watching the two of you learn each other, as my belief in miracles begins to solidify.
I wish to hold you in my arms and listen to your every tiny breath. But the times insist I wait- the test results have not come back and though I miss you dearly, I cannot risk your health in order to pacify my sadness. You’ve already fought so hard.
Some day soon, I will show you the warmth of the sun and the stillness of the moon; your father will find the shape in every cloud, and I will help you trace every constellation in the sky. But for now, I can only write NICU love letters from afar as you sleep blissfully, innocent and unaware of the chaos of your birth or the state of a world that you have yet to know. I sit in a quiet and lonely room, watching you develop a love-hate relationship with your pacifier through the camera that hangs above your crib.
Society’s comforts are fractured and collapsing, but we are sure to rebuild and begin again. Life will become almost as new to us as it is to you, and we will learn to navigate it together. What came before matters little; you are all that fills my vision of the future.