Brightest Light, Deepest Shadow

Superstition has crept over me like a fog, the symptom of a
rampaging fear that has held me hostage for twelve weeks, two days, and
thirty-nine minutes. Somehow, if I play those scratchcards I bought the
other day, something will happen to her. I can't risk winning on them,
that would be catastrophe... so I leave them in the post office, hoping
someone will pick them up and have good fortune with them.

She's beautiful, past beautiful. I watch her sleeping, having to
revisit and check every time I wonder if she is still breathing.

It's funny how complicated the decision to have a baby seemed back
then. How we agonised and worried about something that is instantly the
brightest light in our lives. But with her also comes the darkest
shadow, the fear I never had to live with before.

She smiles, and I know one day I will have to smile back and let go her
hand as she walks into her new school for the first time, watch
silently as she climbs a tree, sure she won't fall (I'm sure she will),
wave cheerfully as she packs her bags and moves out of the house, an
adult. Already I've had to endure the practice nurse stabbing that
needle into her thigh.

But the worst fear? That I won't have to go through any of these
moments.