Dear Diary,
Today felt like a whirlwind of old expectations and new realities. Aunt Eleanormy motherinlawthrew the ultrasound printout onto the kitchen table with a sharp snap. Another girl? What a joke! she snapped, her voice tinged with the stubborn pride of four generations of railway men in our family. What have you brought us now?
My little Harriet, my wife Emily whispered, gently rubbing her round belly. Well call her Harriet.
Eleanor pursed her lips. Harriet at least its a proper name. But what use will she be? What purpose does your Harriet serve?
James, my husband, was glued to his phone. When I pressed him for an opinion, he shrugged. What will be, will be. Maybe next time well have a boy.
A knot tightened in my chest. Next time? I thought. Is this little one just a rehearsal?
Harriet arrived in January, a tiny bundle with enormous eyes and a tuft of dark hair. James appeared only for the discharge, bearing a bouquet of carnations and a bag of tiny clothes. Shes beautiful, he murmured, peering into the pram. She looks just like you.
Emily smiled. And your nose, and that stubborn chin.
James waved it off. All babies are the same at that age.
Eleanor met us at the door with a sour expression. Neighbour Valentina asked whether you had a grandson or a granddaughter. Its embarrassing to admit, she muttered. At my age Im still playing with dolls
Emily retreated to the nursery and broke down quietly, pulling the baby close to her chest.
Jamess hours grew longer. He picked up extra shifts on nearby rail lines, arguing that the family was an expensive one, especially with a child. He came home late, exhausted and silent.
Shes waiting for you, Emily would say as he passed the nursery without a glance. Harriet lights up the moment she hears your steps.
Im spent, love. Ill be up early tomorrow, James would reply. But you havent even said hello to her
Shes too small to understand.
Yet Harriet seemed to understand. Emily watched as the little girl turned her head toward the door with each footfall, then stared into the empty hallway after the sound faded.
At eight months Harriet fell ill. Her temperature spiked to 38°C, then 39°C. I called an ambulance, but the doctor advised us to try paracetamol at home. By morning her fever had risen to 40°C.
James, get up! Harriet is really ill! I urged, shaking him. What time is it? he groggily asked. Seven. Ive slept with her all night. We need to go to the hospital.
He hesitated. Its earlymaybe we can wait till evening? I have an important shift today. I stared at him as if he were a stranger. Your daughter is burning with fever, and youre thinking about work?
Im not letting her die. Kids get sick all the time. I booked a taxi on my own.
At the hospital Harriet was whisked into the infectious disease ward. The doctors feared a severe infection and ordered a spinal tap.
Wheres the father? the senior nurse asked. We need consent from both parents.
Hes at work. Hell be here soon. I called James all day, but his phone stayed dead. At sevenpm he finally answered.
Emily, Im at the depot. Whats wrong?
Harriet has meningitis! We need your consent for the tap! The doctors are waiting!
What? A tap? I dont understand
Come now!
I cant, I have a shift until eleven. Ill talk to the guys later.
I hung up, letting the line die. The consent was signed by me alone, as the mother. The procedure was done under general anaesthetic; Harriet looked almost a doll on the big operating table.
The results will be ready tomorrow, the consultant said. If it is meningitis, treatment will be longabout a month and a half in hospital.
I stayed the night. Harriet lay under an IV, pale and still, her chest rising and falling only faintly.
James showed up the next day for lunch, looking gaunt and exhausted.
Hows it going? he asked, hesitant to enter the ward.
Bad, I replied shortly. The test results arent back yet.
What did they do to her? he pressed. A spinal tapthey took fluid from her spine.
His face went pale.
Was it painful?
She was under anaesthetic, she felt nothing.
He stood by her bed, frozen. Harriet slept, a tiny hand draped over the blanket, a catheter attached to her wrist.
Shes so small, James muttered. I never imagined
I said nothing.
The test came back negative for meningitisa nasty viral infection, but treatable at home with a doctors supervision.
Lucky you, the senior nurse said. A day or two longer and it could have been worse.
On the drive home James was silent. As we pulled up to the house he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper, Am I really that bad? As a father?
Emily adjusted Harriets blanket and looked at him.
What do you think? she asked.
I thought there was plenty of time, that she was too small to notice anything. Then I saw her there, tubes and all, and realised I could lose her. And that losing someone is possible.
James, she needs a father, not just a provider. A father who knows her name, who knows her favourite toys.
What are they? he asked softly.
The rubber hedgehog and the jingling rattle. When you come home she crawls to the door, waiting for you to pick her up.
James lowered his head. I didnt know.
Now you do.
Harriet woke and started to crya thin, plaintive wail. James reached instinctively toward her but stopped.
May I? he asked me.
Shes yours.
He lifted her gently. The little girl sniffed, then fell silent, studying his face with big, earnest eyes.
Hello, tiny one, James whispered. Im sorry I wasnt there when you were scared.
Harriet pressed her tiny hand to his cheek. A lump rose in his throat.
Teddy, she said suddenly, clearly. Her first word.
James stared at me, eyes wide.
She said it, I said, smiling. Shes been trying for a week, just waiting for you to be away.
That night, after Harriet fell asleep in my arms, James carried her to her cot. She didnt stir, only tightened her grip on his finger in sleep.
She doesnt want to let go, I remarked.
Shes afraid youll disappear again, I explained. He sat by the cot for half an hour, reluctant to release his finger.
Tomorrow Ill take a day off, he announced. And the day after that too. I want to know my daughter.
What about work? The extra shifts?
Well find another way to earn, or live more modestly. The important thing is not to miss how she grows.
I wrapped my arms around him. Better late than never.
Id never forgive myself if something happened and I hadnt even known her favourite toys, he said quietly, watching our sleeping girl. Or that she knows how to call me Dad.
A week later, fully recovered, the three of us went to the local park. Harriet perched on my shoulders, giggling as she grabbed at autumn leaves.
Look, Harriet, isnt that beautiful? I pointed at the golden maples. And theres a squirrel!
Emily walked beside us, thinking about how easily we can take for granted the things we love most.
When we got home, Eleanor met us with a scowl.
James, Valentina told me her grandson is already playing football. And yoursstill with dolls, she said.
My daughter is the best in the world, James replied calmly, handing Harriet a rubber hedgehog. And dolls are wonderful.
The family line will break, she warned.
It wont. Itll continue, just in a different shape.
Eleanor tried to protest, but Harriet waddled over, grabbed her hands and exclaimed, Nana! with a beaming smile.
Eleanor, bewildered, lifted the granddaughter. Sheshes speaking! she gasped.
Our Harriet is clever, James said proudly. Right, love?
Dad! Harriet shouted, clapping her hands.
Watching all this, I realised that happiness often arrives through hardship, and the deepest love is the one that matures slowly, forged by fear and loss.
Later, as I sang a lullaby to Harriet, my voice hoarse and low, she stared at me with wide eyes.
You never sang to her before, Emily noted.
Ive missed a lot, I admitted. Now I have time to make up for it.
Harriet drifted off, clutching my finger tightly. I stayed in the dark, listening to her breathing, thinking of all the moments I might have missed if I hadnt paused. She slept with a soft smile, knowing her father would not vanish.
It feels as if a reader sent me this tale, reminding us that sometimes destiny demands a trial to awaken the brightest feelings in us. Do you truly believe a person can change when they realise what they might lose?
