The fear


I dream for them.

In these days, before they can dream for themselves, I dream for them.

I don’t dream in specifics. That’s for them to do on a someday down the road.

But I dream dreams of boundless possibility. A blank canvas eagerly awaiting their marks.

finger painting

I dream dreams of the beauty that only they can create. I dream dreams of that moment when they find the thing they were meant to do and they smile so brilliantly that the world stops to stare in awe.

I dream dreams that are easily shattered into pieces at my feet in the ultrasound exam room.

Not normal. Heart defect. Downs syndrome.

Each syllable a damaging blow.

She didn’t mean to concern us. It was her responsibility to tell us what she saw. A small spot on the heart. A bone here and another one there, measuring a bit too small. Try not to worry too much. It could be nothing.

Or it could be everything.

And for weeks, we worried about everything. We waited and worried. We tried to prepare ourselves. We put our dreams aside and turned our hearts towards prayers and preparation. Preparation for a life that may not be the life of my dreams but will still be our life. Preparation for everything.

And in the end, it was nothing.

We exhaled long breaths as they assured us, she was fine. No signs. No concerns.

Bit-by-bit, I started dreaming again. Day-by-day the bounds of possibility stretch further and further. With each mark she makes on her own blank canvas, I see my dreams for her coming true. I see smiles so brilliant. I know the world will notice.

little girl at the park

My dreams were not shattered. Not that time.

But now I know how fragile those dreams can be. Now I know the fear.


linking up with Yeah Write #64. loving the summer series and the prompts.

read to be read at


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