Prelude
Anhuin (On-hue-en)
It kicked in. From somewhere deep inside me a mother cried out for her child to live. I never knew how powerful my instincts to protect my child would be until it actually happened. This power came with a wave of adrenaline that I had never felt before. So exhilarating and frightening I allowed it to take over my body. I didn’t care that she wasn’t like me, or what the others might think. I didn’t have to think about it, my body just reacted. Morbid thoughts swept over me as I thought of my baby’s death. I would not let it come true.
So I swam. I swam faster then I had ever imagined I could. I couldn’t see her in the dark, but I knew there was something wrong. She wasn’t moving; her heart was slowing down. My body retorted and I kicked harder. I couldn’t reach for the blue water up ahead with her cradled in my arms. When the black turned to blue I could still feel her heart. It pounded in my head harder then a drum. It was the only sound I could hear; the only sound that was important. I didn’t care if a creature saw me and came after me. I was swimming too fast for them.
Then, another sound took over; my own heart. My heart was working too hard. Between the swimming, adrenaline, and excitement it was pumping way too fast for it to last much longer. I told it to hold on. Not for me, but for her. It could give out after she was safe, I didn’t care. “ Just a little longer” I told it, “and then you can rest for all eternity.” I could barely hear her heart now. It was just a gentle, irregular quiver. I whispered to it too. “Don’t give out on me.” It didn’t react.
Water rushed by me with great force. Green water was coming up fast, which gave me hope, but at this moment I looked at my daughter for the first time. She looked frail and tiny at no more then six pounds. Pail and unconscious she was still lovely. I couldn’t help but smile at my daughter. I thought to myself, would this be my only memory of my daughter alive? I threw that thought out of my head and reached for the coral. On land she was still unconscious.
I felt for a pulse. NOTHING. One summer I had watched a lifeguard try to pump the water out of a drowning man, so I put my thumbs on her tiny chest and pushed gently. STILL NOTHING. With no reaction I panicked. I had no idea how to save her. I began rocking her back and forth in my arms and kissing her forehead wishing she would only wake up. I started sobbing loudly. I exhaled into her mouth as I kissed her, and she coughed.
My baby girl took her first breath. She looked up at me with big eyes of wonderment. Her chest moved up and down, and her heart drummed loudly for me. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. I smiled at her again. Pink flushed her cheeks and painted her body. She WAS different from me.
I praised myself. No one had ever been able to save them. These rare children, born different from us. I allowed my body to calm down. My heart had pulled through for the both of us and I was truly grateful. Depression washed over me as I remembered she could not come home. I scratched my head and looked down at her with sadness. What do I do? This child, that I nurtured in my womb for nine months, felt kicking inside of me, cannot come home with me. Who could love her more then me? I had dreamed of being a mother my whole life and it was being ripped away.
For a moment I hated her. Hated her for not being the baby I had imagined. The child I could teach, nurture, and love for as long as I lived. All the visions I had of our future together would never come true. How was I supposed to feel? She was the only child I could have. I knew it wasn’t her fault, and I could not hate her for being unique. She was the only one of her kind. She would always be MY daughter, and there was pride in that fact.
I cradled her in my arms and kissed her all over. From her dark curls to her adorable toes. She felt comfort in my body warmth, and I wished I could feel it too. She gazed upward as if she was studying me. She seemed to reach for my face and I stared at her little fingers. So delicate, and plump, I tried to memorize every line in her palm, every dimple in her soft pink skin. I sang her a lullaby and told her I loved her. I knew this would be the last time I held my Daughter.
Nearby was a beach with a small dwelling. A single woman sat on the beach; her face hidden by a big white sun hat. She wore a long graceful dress, and her hair whipped rapidly in the wind. She was looking out at the ocean with tranquility. I hurried to her side. She kept quit. When she saw my face she lost all color in hers. This woman had no idea what we had been through these last few minutes. I wished I could tell her the story I couldn’t. I tried to communicate with one last desperate look. I could feel my body shudder for this moment was pure apprehension. I wept again.
I gave my only child one last kiss, squeezed her tight, and then held her out to the woman. She looked at me with disbelief, and grasped my naked baby in her arms. My daughter started to cry and there was a desperate calling inside me to comfort her. I told myself to be strong. I turned around quickly and walked back to the ocean. This would be the most difficult thing I would ever do in my insignificant life. The mother in me sought to save her, but my heart was selfish and wanted her all to myself.
This unwary woman held something so valuable in her arms and I wished that she would give my daughter the life I had wanted for her. I detested the fact that my daughter would never know me; never know what I did for her; never know my name. I would never be whole again; there would always be something missing. My only hope was that our paths might cross again. I was envious of my daughter. She would grow in a world of love, life, and good things; far away from my dangerous and indeterminate life. I wiped the tears from my eyes. The woman called out for me, but I could not look back. The last thing I remember is the faintest sound of her cry overpowered by the crash of the waves. It would be an eternal echo instilled in my memory.
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