A tiny, wrinkly, soft baby was in my arms.
I had no bloody clue what to do.
She slept and woke and drank.
I stared at her wondering where she came from.
She curled her fingers around my fingers.
She looked around with fuzzy eyes, kind of in my direction but not really.
I spent hours awake with her in the deep dark night.
She didn’t know about day and night, light and dark.
If I put her down she kicked her legs.
If I picked her up and held her close she rested her cheek on my chest, my shoulders.
I stared at her some more.
I couldn’t comprehend.
That she was mine.