I kiss her cheek and say I love you,
I lay her down and raise the side rail.
As she is wheeled away, she sits up in bed,
Looking over her shoulder, she reaches for me.
Her angry cries express her confusion,
She doesn’t understand why she is being taken away.
As they round a corner, my daughter and the doctor,
She turns her head to see me again.
I stay where I am waving goodbye,
Tears rolling unchecked down my cheeks.
The doors close between us and I turn away.
I walk without seeing, act without thought,
I move from Observation to the Waiting Room.
The waiting is brutal and seems never ending,
Seconds become minutes and minutes hours.
The hands of the clock move slowly,
At times they appear to move in reverse.
Hours pass and still I wait, numb to the world around me,
Worrying about the worst and hoping for the best.
Watching the seconds tick by, I silently pray,
Requesting steady hands for the surgeon and no complications.
Just when I think I can take no more the waiting is over.
The phone rings, the surgeon is calling,
"It's all over, the surgery a sucess".
"She is waking up now, you can see her soon",
With that the waiting begins again.
An hour passes in the blink of an eye,
A path pattern is paced into the carpet pile.
Suddenly a voice says, "You can see you daughter now,"
I follow closely behind, ignoring the hallways I walk down.
Finally I am led to her bedside as she opens her eyes,
She hoarsely cries when she sees me, wanting my attention.
My tears land on her face as I lean over and whisper "Mommie's here".
