I look at you, looking back at me with those little blue eyes. Your arms and legs move autonimous of one another, while your brain fights to control your budding motor skills. You smile and then you cry. You are my sweet little girl. I've never felt so much for something and yet, I've never felt so much lament for what I've done to you.
This world is a sesspool. It is a swirling swamp of horrors waiting to devour everyone that is unfortunate enough to show up on its gallows.
The world is nothing like it is in your bassinette. The soft cuddles of your mother and father. The soft kisses on your forehead and loving response when you get upset or afraid--the world will not afford you these condolences. The world won't care if you are hurting or afraid. The world will be your enemy.
The condition of the land you're in is astonishingly bad. The problems are paramount and they are getting worse every day. I've brought you into a world of hatred and anger--of divided races and stereotypes. I will one day ask you to live in this world on your own. You'll want to for a brief moment until you find out what horrors it has in store for you.
I cannot hold your little hand when you have to go to school. I cannot make sure that the other kids will be nice to you. I cannot protect you from mean teachers and schoolyard bullies. I cannot protect you from bitterness and its inevitable home inside of your heart.
One day a boy is going to break your heart. On that day, I cannot stop the pain for you. I can only hug you, knowing, silently, that it was an experience that was necessary for you to grow up.
I wish I could keep you in my hands forever. I wish I could make you smile with funny faces and weird noises that I make with my mouth forever. I wish life was the fairytale that you'll think it is while you are little. That unicorns exist and that there's a prince charming for every girl.
One day you'll tell me that you hate me. It will hurt me. Not so much that you, as a teenager, feel anger toward your father, but more that my little girl is able to distinguish the feeling of hate.
The world just isn't good enough for you and I never did anything to make it better for you. Now, I dread that day when you're little hand slips from mine and you're left to figure it out for yourself. When you're left to find out that the majority of men you meet will hurt you.
Then, I will ultimately have to give you to another man, whom I hope will care about you as much as I do. Finally, I'll hug you and tell you it's okay, when this same feeling is yours for your child.