fallen fledgling
She's my fighter, she's my miracle.
Her face displays painful expressions, her mouth opens without sound.
She's my girl. She's my survivor.
Her breathing tube requires sedation. Her tests cause discomfort.
She's my gift. She's my hope.
Her procedures repeated, her results the same.
She's my little angel. She's my flesh and blood.
Her lungs will never develop. Her bones won't grow.
She's my little sweetie. She's her mother's girl.
Her caregivers mournful, her pain prolonged.
She's my reason for living. She's my goal.
Her eyes are covered. Her fists closed.
She's my decision. She's mine.
Her skin transparent. Cold.
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
- Tags: life support, preemie, pain, denial
3 comments add one below
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D.M. over 8 years ago
Thanks, Drew. I found this difficult to write. I wanted to include what the judge said
about "the kindest option" but that took it in a different direction. I didn't want anything judgmental. But then there it is... -
Jim M over 8 years ago
I agree with Drew, beautiful writing on a topic so easily done badly or insensitively. The style you've chosen perfectly emphasizes what you're saying, with a lot of the power of this piece in the things left unsaid and the guided associations of the reader.
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D.M. over 8 years ago
Thank you. I keep thinking about a quote I read, "End with an image, don't explain." That is this title, however, I do want to experiment more with that
idea.
