My Only Daughter

I dreamt of you again last night, your curls bouncing as you ran through a field of purple flowers. Your big brown eyes, full of wonder, watched as butterflies darted from bud to bud. The sun fell on your tiny face, bathing you in a glowing halo of light. I could hear the echo of your giggle as you drew near, calling out for me to hold you. I crouched down, arms outstretched, ready to sweep you up in a giant hug, twirl you about, and never let you go.

But just before you got to me, you broke into a million pieces, colorful butterflies soaring into the air to vanish from sight. Desperately, I tried to catch them, running as fast as I could. But they were too quick and I fell to my knees in despair. The echo of your giggle still hung in the air but it changed, became more rhythmic.

Tch…tch…tch…tch…

Not your giggle, your heartbeat. The only sound I ever heard you make, your strong steady heartbeat. The sound haunts me.

You were so much tinier then. Not a little girl running about as you appear in my dreams. Just a little blip on the screen. I remember looking at you, with your oversized head, itty-bitty arms, and little stub feet. I could see your heart fluttering, constant and unfailing. You looked perfect, my beautiful baby girl. I remember the relief. She's okay, she's alive.

But even as I thought it, I knew something wasn't quite right. You were too still. Only your heart moved.

I pushed down the thought. It's just fear. This happened with your big brother too, I reminded myself, and he's just fine.

But there was more blood this time and the doctor wasn't sure why. Stay in bed, rest, come back Monday. That's all I got.

But when I came back you were gone.

No more blip on the screen, no more steady heartbeat. Just an empty womb to match my empty heart. Nothing left to say goodbye to. Nothing there to bury. Nothing at all.

How do you mourn nothing?

You are the one who never was. There's no proof you were ever here. Were you ever really mine?

I woke from the dream with empty arms, with a heart hollowed out, aching to hold you. I lay there wishing myself back to that meadow, hoping to return to watch you play. That's when I realized if you were here you would no longer be a child. Your younger brother is going to be a senior this year.

My mind raced of all we should have had. You would have already graduated and left for college. I would have already sent you on your first date and held you as you cried over your first broken heart. I would have taught you the tricks of makeup and how to tame your curls. We would have binge watched Hallmark at Christmas and sang Disney songs at the top of our lungs. We would have dressed up fancy just gorge on ice cream. You would have fallen asleep to the stories I wrote just for you. We would have made a thousand memories together.

Family photos adorn the walls, showing off your three brothers. Moments captured from their childhood that I forever cherish. But you're not in any of them. There is no photo of you, not even from that long ago ultrasound. In my chest full of keepsakes there's three little blue blankets alongside three tiny suits, each saved for one of my precious little boys. But there's no pink blanket, no special dress. All I have is the memory of your heartbeat and the whisper of a dream.

You never were…and yet my heart still cries out to hold you.

My only daughter, never born and never forgotten.