“She has her Father’s eyes,” said the nurse on the late shift
turning to face me, child in arms, to present our perfect new baby.
I lift her to the safety of my chest while changing position
so baby can listen as our two hearts beat as one in circadian rhythm.
I cradle the infant in the secure crevice of my arm
with the presence of a guardian who’ll never bring her harm.
“Your daddy’s precious little darling, aren’t you?” said with a kiss
to the forehead as I lift you to meet my trembling lips.
I’ll never admit it, but it scares me to think of the thought
of how I witnessed you born strangled by your own umbilical cord.
The image still haunts me. The seconds that followed your birth
possibly turning the happiest day of my life into one of the worst.
I watched as the surgeons fought to free you and keep you alive
reaching inside your mothers stomach as I feared for your life
squeezing her tightly. “Is everything okay?” your mother asked
I couldn’t answer. “What’s happening?” she shot me a worried glance.
I remember looking back into her sad and nervous eyes
I took her the hand of hers in mine because we hadn’t heard you cry.
I lacked the words to try and console her, even if I had wanted.
I couldn’t bear to think of the consequence.
You were still irresponsive.
I felt her wedding ring as it prodded into the flesh of my palm
its emeralds sharp against my skin, yet the pain was felt in my heart.
The specialists started lowering you body into an incubation pod
It’s so painful watching, fearful that your little angels gone.
Every minute taking longer than it ever has before.
Every second passing more slowly than I remember that’s for sure.
It’s only then you gasped to call out beneath its halogen lights
Your passionate cries opening the floodgates as tears ran from my eyes.
I remember standing beside you gazing happily
I hadn’t just became a dad, you went and made a man of me.