One Day

Six years ago, you had one day with her. That's so unfair.

As magical as newborns are and as much as I envy you those precious hours, you couldn't possibly have imagined how incredible your daughter would become. She is sugar and spice, quick to take offense and eager to please. My dragon daughter. From the first picture I ever saw of her I sensed a brightness in her, a vividness. Everything she feels, she feels intensely. Every story she tells, she throws her whole self into portraying every aspect. I've often wondered if acting is in her future: she just seems like a natural.

I'll get to see that future, and unless a modern miracle of internet and DNA transpires, you won't. That's so unfair.

I don't know what combination of societal limitations, familial pressures, financial duress, and personal bias led you to want your daughter to be cared for by the state. I know from other parents of nevus owners that the initial reaction from uninformed doctors and medical staff can be devastating. One family's child was placed in NICU immediately and the parents were told the child probably wouldn't live out the week. She did, of course, and proved to be and continues to be happy and healthy. But it's so rare, you see. One in every 500,000 births and most doctors never see it in their whole practice. It can look so scary at first, but it isn't really, most of the time. Were you scared? Did a doctor tell you she wouldn't survive or that she would need medical care you couldn't pay for? Did you face the question that so many parents in your situation have had thrust on them: to take your child home to die or to surrender her to the state so that she can receive life-saving medical care? That's so unfair.

But medically necessary or not, she thrived, even in an institutional environment, and after bringing her home we have seen her burst into bloom. The calendar tells us that we have had her for two years, five months and seventeen days and every one of those days she has been a joy. (And often a trial as well: she has a strong will, your daughter.)

Thank you for including the note with her time of birth. I wonder, when that time came today, did you wince? Do you feel the loss of her like a limb? Do you have peace that you made the right decision for her? Did you move past the grief years ago, hopeless of ever seeing your child again? I wish I could face west and send you this message: your daughter is loved and cared for and accepted. She is yours, always yours, but also ours.

Ours forever.

We promise.