Here's an entry for the woes of parenting contest. |
Word count: 286 I stood in the operating room, wondering whether it was a boy or a girl, before the doctor delicately placed our baby in my hands. I realized that I was holding my breath and then looked down into my daughter’s eyes. I was the first person she’d ever seen, and yet, I felt she instantly recognized me. You know me, I thought, we talk every night before I go to bed. We studied each other for what seemed like a minute, interrupted only by a visceral cry. “Comfort me!” I interpreted. In that moment, with alarming clarity, I understood my role in the wondrous life cradled in my arms. “Shhhh, little one,” I whispered, “Your father’s here now. I will never let anything bad happen to you.” As those last words parted my lips, I already knew the aching truth: As much as I try to shelter her, some day she will suffer. I thought of all the bumps and bruises, the first knee scrape from the first bike ride and her first bully. I will do my best but what about the taunting remarks at the playground? How could I protect her from her first broken heart? I followed the streaming tears behind her head, thinking that someday I will also cause her grief when I ground her, or even worse, disapprove of a boyfriend. Who would have thought that my daughter, no more than three minutes old, would teach me one of life’s great lessons? That day I became a parent, like any other, full of doubts and fears and she made me realize that I couldn’t stop life from taking its course. I could only do my best to guide and comfort her. |