The following is from one of my readers - a beautiful letter to her child...
Dear baby,
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.
Endless love,
A lady who dreams of
being your mum.
