Written Into My Hands

I wrote you into my hands long before they held you

Tracing circles in my palms

As I anxiously awaited

In that cramped bathroom

Seated on the cold ledge of a gaping tub

Afraid to see my hopes dashed in a urine soaked stick

The foul-mouthed tub taunting me with thoughts of emptiness

Far too many anticipated smiles wept into those very palms

The tears collecting and streaming through the gutter fine ridges

All for the loss of someone I never knew

Never had

I wrote you into my hands long before they held you

Lining up my fingers and palms as if to pray

But finding it more fitting to clench them into fists

In the waiting rooms, doctor’s offices, and phlebotomists’ chairs

As files of paperwork and black and white ultrasound glow

Confirmed that dipping hormones and the crushing silence of tiny chest

Would highlight my face ashen with grief in the loss of such blessed morning sickness

I wrote you into my hands long before they held you

Hands splayed across the tomb of the unknown son

A name fit for features yet to be revealed

To be laid to rest in a numbing moment laced with local anesthesia

As I lay silent in a surgically sanitized room

Lit by invasive electricity and monitors that knew far too much about me

All the endless apologies for genetic faults I couldn’t even explain to myself

I wrote you into my hands long before they held you

In the redemption

That grateful handshake from a man

Who had more answers than sorrows to reveal

Almost one year from that solemn date

And in my second trimester

He sent me down my path of expectant motherhood

With the most appropriate parting words

…I hope to never see your face again…

And directed me into the strong hands of the woman who just six months later

Would gently coax you into this world

And into my hands

Writing memories into the satin soft pockets nestled within my palms

And now I look at your delicate hands

So tiny and unaware of the world that awaits them

And I wonder what will become of their porcelain star shaped form

As you explore your world and find  

That your hands will write some of the greatest stories ever told

E.A. O'Connell