When I was pregnant with my firstborn, Doug, my nightmares were quite frequent and frightening--of a faceless little girl.
Doug and 'the faceless girl' were born hours apart in August of 1969; she was born to someone else in the same hospital.
In a newspaper article in 1979 a reporter revealed the presence in the State Hospital of such a child born in Aug. of 1969. Her mother was told the child was stillborn at the father's request and may remain, still, institutionalized. Her picture showed a face with three holes--created by surgeons; two in the center of her face and one where her mouth should have been. She had no eyes, ears, or hair.

There was life stirring within
but my dreams weren’t sound.
I feared the bogeyman
though there was no one around.
Momma never told me I was sensitive.
As my baby stirred,
I cried out in fear--
there was no loving comfort,
no tender words of cheer.
Momma never told me I was sensitive.
Newborn faceless girl
in my dreams cried still
as my newborn son slept.
I knew that someone lied.
Momma never told me I was sensitive.
A decade now has passed . . .
can’t forget her, never will.
She made the news . . . page ONE
her mom’s arms empty still . . .
institutionalized.
Momma never told me I was sensitive.