Erin looks at me and brushes my face with her
hand. “Hey … is everything alright? Is anything
wrong?”
“It’s a girl,” I say, barely swallowing the lump
in my throat.
“Yes.” She smiles.
“We’re going to have a baby girl,” I say without
thinking about it, without reflecting on it and
without asking myself even for one second what
I’m doing here, why I’m next to this woman
holding her hand and why I’m crying like a baby
as I stare at a monitor with something undefined
and incomprehensible in front of my eyes.
And yet my heart is exploding with love and
happiness at seeing it all.
Seeing the lines of her face, a turned-up nose
like her mother, dark hair and doe eyes, sweet and
sincere.
Seeing a vivacious smile that precedes the echo
of a joyous laugh that fills all the days of my life.
Seeing a little puffy and delicate hand that grabs
on to mine with all its force and that I’ll never let
go.
My heart sees all of it, even that which the eye
cannot.
I can distinctly see this child running into my
arms.
This little girl is part of me, as if she was a piece
of my heart.
Because this child is mine.
