I held the newborn

I held the newborn

and waited to feel it.

Everyone was watching.

The baby's weight in my arms

was exactly what it was—

a small, warm weight.

I looked at the tiny face

and my face was blank.

I could feel the blankness.

Everyone was waiting

for me to cry or melt

or say something beautiful.

The baby's eyes

were unfocused, staring

past me at nothing.

I was grateful for that.

At least the baby

wasn't expecting anything.

I held the small weight

and felt nothing.

I smiled anyway.

The smile was a lie.

The baby didn't care.

I didn't care that I didn't care.

That's the worst part.

I should have felt something.

I didn't.