(written June 19th, 3 days after my D&C)-posted to remember for National Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day: Oct. 15th.
Last Friday, I began to say goodbye to you, and to a dream years in the making but only briefly realized. I never got the chance to meet you, to hold you, but I did get the chance to imagine what life would be like with you. You would have been due January 6th, a baby so deeply hoped for, for so long, that when I learned about you, I felt a combination of disbelief and elation. Four years of waiting, pills, shots, doctor's offices, and much to our surprise, you defied the odds and found a way into existence, even if for a short time. My little fighter. I heard your heartbeat, so I know you were real. Dreams of what your eyelashes would look like fluttering in sleep, what your tiny toes would taste like in kisses, what your pink skin would smell like are still locked in my heart and will be for some time. I now must find a way to cast those off into the Bay at my feet. I'm not sure that'll ever happen.
I wondered who you would become, what talents you would have, how you would change the world. In some ways, you already have, for me. You couldn't have been more loved, even before entering this world. You would've had a Mother and Father who deeply and completely love each other and who had already begun to share that love with you and two sets of Grandparents eagerly anticipating your arrival.
It was fate that you would never come home with us, a fate I try not to curse, but at times, I can't help it. You're not here. You see, deep in my heart, I knew you were never meant to join us. I chalked this up to years of disappointment in waiting for you, but something told me that it was more than this. The worst moment of my life was the day this was confirmed, the day I had learned that I was right-I had lost you. Wherever you are, know that you will always be missed. Always. Goodbye my darling baby.