You were already three days old and the papers signed before I got to hold you and say good-bye. They gave me an hour.
I told myself that I was going to unwrap you, and memorize every inch of your body. But when they brought you in, you were sleeping, and when I tried, you woke and began to cry. I wrapped you back up quickly and prayed that they hadn’t heard; that they wouldn’t come to take you away early.
My only hour with you and I was already screwing it up.
So I sat you back in my lap and told you I was sorry, and that I loved you. Then I watched the hour tick away
And now, it amazes me how much can change in an hour. One hour I looked forward to holding you, the next I knew I would never see you again.
One hour, asleep on that bed in the back room, when I knew I shouldn’t have been there at all, the consequences of which would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Some things take less time though.... Ten minutes tops, to sign away all my parental rights to you. A little more would have been appreciated.
And I wonder if here, in one hour, I might be able to take back a little of that time we lost, while the clock was ticking away, that oh so important hour. The one hour that I had to tell you everything that I could say, all our hellos, I love yours and goodbyes condensed into 60 minutes.... 3600 seconds... and you sleeping, your beautiful baby sleep under that blanket, where completely oblivious to our meeting.
So I guess maybe it will begin here, me taking back that hour. Day by day, until I have said all I couldn’t say then, while you where sleeping. I hope you don’t mind if I ramble….