...as I rock my Meme in the big chair, holding her close to me and inhaling the special fragrance that is unique to her, she sucks on the corner of her pink blankie. Her head lays flat on my chest and I smooth her hair, rub my thumb in circles on her temple, and I pray.
I want Meme's father to pull his act together and come retrieve his daughter. And WHY? You ask, WHY! Why would you want this baby to live with her single daddy, in a run down apartment in a bad area of town, attending a less than adequate school and wearing threadbare clothing. Why do I want this? Because I love her.
I want this because I know what it feels like to be abandoned by your daddy... and even if life with your daddy is some kind of awful chaos, it is better than laying awake wondering why your daddy gave you up, why he is someone else's daddy, why he didn't love you. It's better than being 14 and letting any boy around 'love' you just so you can fill up that empty daddy-less ache in your little girl heart. It's better, a chaos life with a daddy who chose you, than a pretty packaged life with a family that wants you, but took you only because there was no where else to go.
I want Meme to be wanted, by the one person who can make her feel that way. I love this baby, I feel like she grew in my belly and arrived into my arms as easily as my other children... but my love for her will never heal the hurts of being let go, left behind, discarded.
So I pray. Not for my Meme, but for her daddy. Won't you join me?
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