You're Not the Child I Hoped For…

I sit in the dark of your room and watch you sleep; it’s late. I settle into the recliner in the far corner of the room. The corner softly illuminated by your nightlight; like many other items in your room, a new addition due to a recent meltdown that no one saw coming. A meltdown that exhausted your mother and I. A meltdown that scared us again; scared us into wondering…always wondering.
I watch you sleep. Thinking about the meltdown from this very evening…no, yesterday evening. I’ve been sitting here for a while; we’ve crossed over to the next day. It’s late. I watch the rise and fall of your chest as you slumber; I wonder what you’re dreaming about. Your breathing is rhythmic, slow, steady, but also very similar to the heavy sobs and gasps for breath from earlier…during the meltdown. 
I watch you sleep…and I start to cry. I cry because I hate myself for what I’m thinking; what I’ve thought many times since you were born. I hate myself because tonight was the first time I realized you felt my thoughts too. I hate myself because I think, you’re not the child I hoped for…you’re not the child I wanted
Read more

Advertisements