Big, Brown Eyes

February 20, 2012
By Anonymous

“Mommy, where are we?
I thought we were going to get some chocolate ice-cream.


What is this place?

How do they know my name?

Where are we going now?

Why did the lady ask if I was ready?

Why are they attaching those things to me?

What are those things in that little tray?

Why are you crying?

Don’t cry.


I caressed her face with fear it would be the last. To soothe her anxiety I tried answering her questions, but no words came out. Unable to answer any of her questions, I was asked to leave the room. As I walked out, 3 small words managed to release them-selves from my mouth. Through the small glass window I could see her warming smile and along with the outline of her lips repeating the words “I love you too.”

I made my way down to the little chapel inside the hospital. I knelt down and pressed my hands tight against each other and brought them up to my forehead. With tears rolling down my face, I began to pray. I was alone and I couldn’t help but think that maybe that’s the way it would be from now on. More and more tears rushed down my face, that couldn’t happen. It couldn’t! I sobbed until I felt dry from the inside. After what felt like countless hours, I stood up. I was on my way to get a coffee to try and relax my worries when I saw something written in the wall. “Everything happens for a reason.” I stayed starring at the wall for quite a while I suppose because a nurse went up to me and asked if I needed any help. I then realized I was starring at a blank wall.

After I got my coffee I sat down and processed what was going on very slowly. At this very moment my one and only daughter was having open heart surgery. I was a single mother with no family other my daughter, no one to rely on for help or to help me go through this phase of both our lives. Completely alone. Since my baby’s birth the baby daddy left me and wasn’t there when the doctors said there was something wrong with her and would need surgery. They told me that it was nothing serious and it could wait a couple of years to be taken care of. I took their word for it and never worried about it. What her pediatrician had not anticipated was that she’d develop diabetes. Now not only did she need surgery, but also had diabetes. The diabetes would increase the risks of the surgery and decrease the possibilities of a further life. If my baby did not make it through I don’t know if I could either.

All hope was lost. The surgery had been going on for 8 hours now and I still had no news on how things were. Finally after 8 long hours and 23 minutes the doctor came out. As soon as he came on sight I dashed to him ignoring the fact that we were in a hospital. My heart raced with the anguish to know if my daughter’s heart could do that too now. The doctor with a soft gentle voice explained to me how the procedure went and the difficulties along the way. I stayed patient for about 10 seconds before I lost it and begged for the news I’d desperately been waiting for. With that the doctor came to a complete quietness followed by a smile. He let out a small laugh and hugged me. She was alive.

I wouldn’t be able to see her for about two days while she recovered. When I walked into her room on the second day of recovery she let out a small cry. A cry of happiness. Her big brown eyes looked straight into mine. She was alright; I could see it in her eyes and in her welcoming smile. After two weeks she was able to be brought home.

A couple months after the return home, there was a knock at the door. There hadn’t been a single knock on that door other than the welcoming visits from the neighbors when I first moved in. It had been 7 years now. I opened the door and froze within the blink of an eye. My baby hurried to the door to see who it was. She had no idea who the man at the door was. He looked straight at her and she looked straight at him. At an instant he knew it was her, for they had the same big brown eyes. He came in like it was his house and carried her. He told her who he was. Daddy. She stopped breathing.

Michaela Richards, 2000-2006.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!