I wonder if my daughter is angry with me.
I wonder if she understands what she did to me.
Besides make me vomit and carsick,
she empowered me.
She was so beautiful.
And although I was carrying her inside of me,
she looked just like her daddy.
I had her picture once, too.
But her facial features hadn’t developed yet
so what I saw
nobody else could see
Because she visited me
In my dreams.
And what a dream she was.
Fair-skinned, but her smile was above par.
Now, I’ve felt pain before
but the pain I felt that rainy September day was new.
As if the one thing I’d searched for
and longed for
had been found
and lost all in the same day.
I wonder if my daughter knows how her mother feels about her.
I wonder if my daughter knows how her father feels about her.
I wonder how my daughter’s skin would feel.
As much as I try to replace that love
and erase that pain
and hide that truth,
my daughter felt everything I felt at that time.
But now she doesn’t feel anything anymore.
And neither do I.