My Daughter, Katie Poem by chris schwartz

My Dear Daughter, Katie,
I love you. I have always, always, loved you. Please find peace in the fact that I never once blamed you for my failures. I own them, and they were my burden to carry; not yours.

I remember the day you were born. I went into the hospital on the 5th day of May. It was gloomy outside, and I felt like I had the flu. I laid on the roll-a-way couch in the living room of your Grandma Darlene's house, curled in a ball, grimacing, and wondering what my young life had yet in store for I was not ready for you. You were not my plan. And I was whisked away to the hospital. Just like that.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Spring came two days later, pink explosions in both ruffles and blossoms on the new-born spring branches. I had given life! 8 pounds and 11 ounces of spring. That is a lot of soft petals, I thought. "And I had hope. I had love. I had joy. I had you. And then came winter.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Your dad and I, we had young love. We had young, stupid, love. And we had you. As the days melted away without sunsets, we had you, to shine upon. To gloat over. To fight over. To long for. He went the only way he could; his preferred gender didn't belong to me. And I, never belonged to him. But you, you my dear child, were from the both of us. Sometimes, reason comes with the chapters only insanity writes. You were the reason. You were our love.
"But, it wasn't supposed to be like this."
Seasons change. Sometimes, so dramatically, that they change without certainty. They change without wisdom, or knowledge. They just change. That is when I found Barry.
I swear, I didn't know! I didn't know he would hurt you, my lovely daughter. I didn't know he would hurt us. The smiles came quickly, and the blows came fierce. There was no reason for them. They just came. My bruises became the kisses that you never got to feel. It was my job to protect you, and I tried. But, I failed. I believe when he went to jail was when you started hating me. And I cried. Rightfully so, for us both.
"but it wasn't supposed to be like this."
Your dad took over; he loved you. But it was a lot simpler for him. He wasn't a single mom with now 2 others to protect. He had not yet lost his mother; she cared for you also. I missed you; I missed us. But, I was grateful that you got to escape. I was always grateful.
They days passed; you colored beautiful pictures on white paper in solitude. I covered bruises with makeup and smiled at your brother and sister's Christmas plays. You weren't with us. Thank God, you didn't understand.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. Days became eternity, as I prepared to leave the devil that had burned our lives to the ground. The brother and the sister whom you now judge with spite became the survivors of us; the survivors from the fury that you never knew. The ones who waited patiently for your guidance and your compassion to comfort them. Together, we mourned the loss of you. We mourned the loss of our family, our animals, and our lives. But, you never knew. How could you? You were still coloring, on white paper, in solitude.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Years later, I look at my past. I am not ashamed. I am not without gratitude. I am not without self-respect. I am not without longing, or innocence; but I am without you. And I am sorry for that. Children don't come with instructions, and they don't come with a guarantee of a happy ending. They just come. As I grow older, I know, that I will remember, the drawings that you colored on plain white paper. And it will give me peace, knowing, that you were allowed to color your world.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."