Just a short one-shot I wanted to experiment with. It's not great, it's just something I wanted to try as we have nothing about Alma.
My beautiful girl.
My beautiful baby.
I wish I could hold her. I wish I could love her. I wish I could do all of those things a mother should be able to do.
I want to look forward to her going to school. Her wedding day. Her first steps. Her first words. At least I made her first smile. They said it was gas, but I know it wasn't. She looked at me with those big eyes, so serious. Then she smiled. A mother knows best and I know it wasn't gas.
My perfect girl.
What will she be like? Will she be a prom queen? Will she be shy? Will she like to dance? Maybe she'll love to read. Maybe she'll be the first female President of the United States. Or maybe she'll stay at her as a full-time mom. Whatever she does, she'll be perfect.
I wish I could be here.
They tell me not to give up the fight. They mean well. They want me to keep fighting. He holds me, kisses my tears away and tells me that it's not over, that I have a chance, that I can watch my baby grow up, that it isn't all over yet.
But what do they know? A mother knows best about her baby and I know best about my health. I can't explain how I know, but I know. I won't be here. I won't see her grow up. She will start her own family one day and I will never know. Her family will never know me. She will never know me. And that breaks my heart more than anyone can ever imagine.
I want to live for her. I want to fight on. But every day, opening my eyes in the morning gets tough. Days blur into nights. I often can't sleep at night from pain. I can't stay awake during the day from tiredness. I don't want to eat. I don't want to drink. I just want to rest. I don't have the energy to live anymore. Every day, my vision grows blurrier, my brain grows fuzzier.
But still, they bring her to visit me every day. I can hardly make out her features anymore, I am so tired. But I know she is beautiful. She is still my perfect girl. I stare at her every day as hard as I can, willing her features into focus. I stare at her and drink in her features, imprinting them in my brain so that I can never forget her.
I know that I will. I know that when I am gone, my memories are gone, everything I ever knew carries on without me and I shall never remember any of it. I have to take advantage of it now.
I wish I could hold her. I am just too weak.
The darkness encompasses me again.
My baby girl.
My Mary Anne.
I love you.