I was cleaning out my garage and found a journal with exactly one entry in it dated June 29, 2004. It hit me like a ton of bricks because while I haven’t thought about this particular fantasy in a while, it still has a very strong hold on my heart. Here’s a piece of it:
I had a flash, a split second, when I knew you were okay and the next morning you were gonna come running into my room with sleepies in your eyes. You would stand right next to my face, barely seeing over the top of the mattress with your tiny-people legs and your string-bean body. Your hair would be all mussed and your pajama bottoms waist band would be half-tucked inside out. You would put your face right next to mine and whisper to me, “Mommy, are you up?” I would feel your sweet breath roll over my cheeks and with eyes closed I would whisper back, “Not yet.” So you’d climb in, as quietly as a hurricane and whisper, “Move over bacon.” I would and you would cuddle up to me. After waiting patiently for 43 seconds you would half-whisper, half speak, “I’m hungry.” So we’d get up, walk to the kitchen side-by-side, your soft tiny hand holding mine, and you’d pull up a chair to the counter and show me how to make pancakes.
But of course that didn’t happen because that flash wasn’t reality. It left just as quickly as it came and when it was gone I mourned for you. You are alive and I’m so grateful for you but I mourn for you. For my angel face, the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world. And nobody can help me. Nobody understands why I feel this way but I do. I would give anything and everything up for you to be well and happy.
Nine years later, I still have moments where I mourn for the coulda’s, woulda’s, shoulda’s. But much of my thinking has changed. I have often (and still do, at times) felt that I’m living on the same planet as the rest of the human race but that I live in a different world. Thanks largely to the internet, I know that there are others like me, who do understand why I feel the way that I do. Wishing for things to be different but having somewhat of a fear of getting what I think I'm wishing for. There is often a battle going on in my head between living life the way it is and wondering how it would be if it were different.
Although I don't know what my daughter's thoughts and dreams are, what is most important is that is well and she is happy. That is the greatest blessing of all.