To my unborn child:
It was August 18th that I found out you existed. It was that very day that I lost you too. I'm sorry I've been afraid to grieve you, and I've been too scared to talk about you. If I do, it will make this all real instead of the bad dream I pretend it to be.
My whole life, for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mom. This deep longing has been placed in my heart by The One who created me. I know with every fiber of my being that I was made for motherhood. And as I have gotten older, that longing has only grown stronger. There were times of doubt and wondering, times where I would cry out to God and ask Him why He would give me this desire if he wasn't going to make me a mom.
And then I met your father. Oh man, did I fall in love with him quickly. I knew weeks into knowing him that he was my half-side, my life partner, my husband, the man I was to build a family with. And we talked about the idea of you. What kind of parents we wanted to be, how blessed our kids would be to have us as a mom and dad. We were looking forward to a future with you in it.
I remember the moment I found out you were growing inside of me. It was a moment of pure joy and of great fear. I was going to be a mom. I was so excited. But you see, your daddy is living 1800 miles away, and I had no idea how this was going to work. I never wanted to be a single mom. What would happen? Would I move? Would we just stay apart? You would have come into this world in April 2015. Your dad would still have three months left in Texas. What would we do? But none of these questions matter anymore.
Hours after I knew about you, I started losing you. My body betrayed me. You were taken from me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I cried for hours in secret for the next three days, blaming myself for losing you, asking God why He would take you away from me, and wondering just how I was going to tell your dad. It took me three days to find the courage to tell him, and I just blurted it out. I didn't know what else to do. He listened to me cry 1800 miles away and did his best to comfort me while trying to wrap his mind around the truth that he was a dad - if only for a moment.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. I would be thirteen weeks pregnant. They say you would be the size of a lemon and be three inches long....But you will never grow past the size of a poppy seed...I will never know you. I will always wonder what you would have looked like. Would you favor me or your dad? Would you have lots of hair? What color would it be? Were you a boy or a girl? Did you have dimples? Freckles? Would you have an itty bitty booty like me and your dad? I'll never get to touch your soft skin or hold you in my arms or count your precious fingers and toes. I'll never get to hear you coo or laugh or cry. Who would you have grown to be? What would your personality be like? I sure hope you would have your dad's confidence and your mom's compassion. What would your gifts and talents be? What would you love doing? I'll never get to see you take your first step, take you to your first day of kindergarten, chaperon your middle school dances (and embarrass you), help you get ready for prom, watch you graduate high school, move you away to college, see you fall in love and get married and have a family of your own.
I'll never get to be your mom......I'll never get to be your mom.......
I would have been a great mom. I would have loved you so very much. I would have been so proud of you. I would have given you hugs and kisses every day and told you how special you were just by being you. I'm sorry I'll never know the answers to any of this. But I will always wonder.
I don't know why you only had three weeks to grow or why you never get to bless me and your daddy with your life. Only The Creator knows that. But dear little one, please know that I will always, always love you. I will always carry you in my heart - my little poppy seed.
I love you to the moon but further!