To My Child

Most of you don't know that my beautiful, intelligent, independent, loving four-and-a-half (going on forty) year old daughter has been through her share of serious problems in her short life. Two years ago, she contracted an E. coli O157:H7 infection and subsequent Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome and nearly died after kidney failure and going into a coma. She spent three weeks in the hospital - half of that in intensive care - and had some very serious problems for about nine months afterward. But by all indications, she has completely recovered and has no physical problems related to that incident today. Then in July of last year, she was accidentally run over by our large riding lawn mower; her mother was driving it to mow our yard at the time. As a result of that accident, my daughter lost the outside two toes on her right foot (I say "lost" because we never found them) and had a very large chunk taken out of her right leg above the knee. After that incident, she spent two weeks in the hospital and underwent four operations to repair the damage to her leg and foot. But today, she has completely compensated for the loss of two toes, her knee and leg have no functional damage at all, and the horrible scars on her leg and foot will (hopefully) fade with time. After all that she's been through, she's in great shape today, although she is still dealing with the emotional aftermath of it all. (In reality, her mother is having a much harder time emotionally because of the guilt she is still carrying.)

So, why the hell did I feel compelled to relate the tragedies above? In order to try and let you know just why the following touched me so deeply. It's not original to me, although it could have been; I got it from a friend but it was written by Sally Meyer and it really struck home for me. Maybe those of you without children won't be affected by it as much as I was, but I have been in a place where I bargained with God and any other power that was listening for the life of my child. And I know just how tenuous and how precious life can be.

To My Child

Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once - not even a tiny grumble - when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash really big in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you fall asleep, I will simply be grateful that I have been given the greatest gift ever.
I will think about the parents who are searching for their missing children, the parents who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and the parents who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore - even as they handle it for just one more moment.
And when I kiss you good night, I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then that I will thank all the dieties for you and ask for nothing, except one more day.

Copyright © 1996 Sally Meyer (For Dhylan)