Her mother, hurt and angry and jealous hated our love for each other had taken her away from me when I had closed the door on our painful relationship. In her thoughtless vengeance against me for that, I doubt she could have realized what she would be removing from our lives, as she stole her and hid her away from me, wanting to wound me over our broken relationship.

I knew that my baby girl carries my last name, that would have to be enough for her to find me someday, and I closed that part of my heart on that day forever, not wanting to feel the pain of hopelessness and longing for something that could be taken from me for good so easily.

Not long after I had recovered from the my loss, after I had to tell my heart and soul that my little baby had died so that I could try to move forward with my life, I discovered that it was medically impossible for me to create a child of my own and although I had complete acceptance that this was my of life and the full implications behind my baby girls actual genetics.

I also knew that even though we didn't share the same blood, we shared something much more important during our brief time together; we shared a love and a bond that once again made me crave the simple sound of her tiny voice.

I have had a couple of girl friends with children since that horrible night but knowing the power that had been pulled over me by my baby's mother wrenching my soul in two, my destroyed heart would not allow me to bond with these wonderful young people, these very deserving children, no matter how hard we tried.

My princess is, and always will be, the closest thing I will ever have to having a child of my own and the pain of knowing that I had lost my only child broke me every time I thought of her as if she had been taken from me again.

I learned that her mother had later married the man who shares my baby girl's genetics and I prayed that he would love her at least half as much as I do, cherish her half as much as I would so that she would grow up with love and tenderness in her life.

I would see children playing in the street while out living my life, and every child's laugh or squeal of joy would bring needled painful remembrance, the paternal need of her to be back in my life and knowing absolutely that it would never happen, repeatedly sliced into a wound in my soul.

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