The Other Side...

The Other Side

I was the one listening in the corner chair

And she was telling me how things went.

I, the one who cut her umbilical cord.

Cradled her in my arms swaddled with hospital cloth

Face waxy white pasted with vernix.

I, the one who wept upon my pillow sham

After pained doctors shared in hushed tones, 

“Your daughter seems to have some anomalies”.

I, the one who shouted at my daughter’s crib

Hoping to startle her awake

After receiving a letter of concern about hearing impairment.

I, the one took her tiny hands in mine

Finding a way to hold them naturally,

Fingers missing, webbed, and stunted.

I, the one who travelled to every children’s hospital

Within six hours next to my hurt--still healing--wife

To finally hear the rare diagnosis: “It’s Mobius Syndrome.”

I, the one who traversed decades into the future

Living every season of her life ahead of time

Dying a thousand deaths, hoping against all hope.

I, the one who would feed her pureed Gerber

Forcing down peas when she wanted plums

Each bite spit up twelve times before one spoonful was cleaned.

I, the one who took her to McDonald’s on dates

One chocolate milkshake, two straws,

Pressing our foreheads together as we slurped, eyes fixed on each other.

I, the one who helped her take her first steps,

Flat-footed, bow-legged, and pigeon-toed 

Stumbling back and forth between her mother and I.

I, the one who climbed into her crib at night

Telling her stories and letting her talk gibberish

Before praying over her little body and soul as best I knew how.

I, the one who pulled her in the wagon at the park

Stopping at the swing-set with two openings for little legs

Gently pushing her until I heard her shotgun giggle.

I, the one who took her to the fair to see the 4-H animals

Pigs and sheep and chickens and horses and cows and rabbits

Watching her reach out and recoil with fright and wonder.

I, the one who dropped her off to pre-school

Feeling like I was losing my girl at age 4

Fighting back tears that later found release in my car.

But now my daughter is 20 years young,

Talking to me about her feelings for a boy.

I used to be the one doing most of the talking

Her unknowingly dependent upon my decisions.

But life turns inside out and upside down

And leaves you wondering where the time went.

And this time…

I was the one listening in the corner chair

And she was telling me how things went.