The following is from one of my readers - a beautiful letter to her child...
I've wanted you for what seems like forever, I dream of holding you and feeling your warmth.
You have no idea how badly I want to create you. To be a mother, I want you more than I can take... more feeling than it is possibly to feel.
It's almost like a need, a need for you.
To feel you move like butterflies, to feel you kick inside me, to feel ethereal, dreamlike, unbelievable to thing I could grow life.
I want to feel the pain of you getting bigger inside me, the weight of you.
I want you to grow and grow like a butterfly in a cocoon.
To see the plus sign on a test, to squeal with glee, to hug my fiancé and see the amazed look in his eyes.
To cry over the joy, the adventure, the possibility that will be your life.
I can draw, paint, write and knit, but creating a painting is so much different to having a work of art, a pure creation made by two in love grow inside you.
I envision your tiny little legs, kicking and squirming, your chubby fingers tight around my thumb, your beautiful soft skin & perfect eyes.
We've talked about you for what feels like eternity, we read books, articles, watched videos about you.
We planned names like Damian or Hamish or Olive or Christine.
We planned out your early years, we planned out everything.
I felt so ready yet scared and excited, the ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, the baby books, my fiancé’s mothers handmade clothes, created for his baby. Special for his baby, our baby, our soon to be universe.
I couldn't wait for you, I was so excited, we were so excited.
I wanted to hear you, hold you... I wanted you to be mine, which you can never be.
I started becoming more tired, more stressed & in more pain. I wondered is fibromyalgia genetic? Could my mum have passed it to me and if so, what would happen to our dream?
I googled it, my heart didn't just sink, it fell, down & down & down. It spun down like a penny in a charity coin machine, until it hit the ground with a cold hard thunk.
My fiancé was broken, I was broken.
Months have passed, he's sold the baby books, hidden his mother’s baby clothes and I have hidden my pregnancy jumper & sold my ovulation tests.
I sold my pregnancy journal, the very happy mother to be messaged me urging delivery, so elated and excited at her pregnancy. I marker penned my name from the 'this book belongs to section' scrubbing it out, trying to clean to sadness away, the memories.
I stuck a neat white sticker over it, almost purifying it as if some omen, some sad, angry, heartbroken entity was being removed or set free.
My fiancé posted the book whilst I tried to forget. When I found out fibromyalgia is genetic and clusters in families.
My dream died, my never born baby died with it, I feel stupid to mourn a baby that has never existed & will never exist but I can't help it.
I used to brood over babies, seeing pregnant women's tummies & children pulled my heartstrings and made me excited and nervous.
Now when I see a child, a baby or a pregnant woman. It ruins my day, I see children’s clothes/socks/blankets & toys in shops & supermarkets.... it makes me feel sick to my stomach with loss.
Most days I can try not to think about it and it sort of works, but some days I cry about you, my never baby. Some nights I stay awake, like right now & I feel sad and broken.
I needed to write this letter to you my never baby, because as I know you won't ever be here I still love you, I still think of you & I still hold a piece of my heart just for you and I hope one day that mourning will heal & my heart won't be quite so fragmented.
A lady who dreams of being your mum.