Three Weeks post-miscarriageMay 4, 2009
You left this world three weeks ago. I only knew you for two months but now it feels like you were with me forever. I wish you could know how much I loved you. I didn’t know if you were a girl or a boy. It didn’t really matter. You were mine. A combination of your daddy and I. I would find myself daydreaming while you grew inside me. I knew your hair would be dark and filled with curls like both your father and I, but I wondered: Would you have your father’s lovely lashes that curl at the end? I dreamed of the day I would hold you against my chest, your soft baby skin against mine, the ultimate connection a mother has to her child. I dreamed of kissing your downy hair, and fretted so soon about how I would clip your tender nails. Your daddy, he was so excited he found a deal on diapers and almost bought a pack of 100. Your grandma? She already spoke to you. She patted my belly where you hid and she told you she couldn’t wait to see you. She was going to buy your crib, and your bassinet. Your uncles defend you against names they feared you might get teased for. Oh, my baby, I tried for so long to see you, when I found out you were coming you were all I could think about. I would lose myself in meetings daydreaming about your smile. I read every pregnancy book imaginable. I kissed your sonogram picture, you curled up floating in my womb. I closed my eyes to remember your heart beat, so strong. I have to move forward now, baby. I have to accept that we won’t ever really get to know each other as I wanted to. There will be days I will smile. There will be days that I will not be consumed by the pain of losing you, but baby, don’t you ever for a minute think I can ever forget you. You were a part of me, when you left, you took a part of me with you. There may be other babies in my life, dear baby. These other babies, I may one day hold as I wanted to hold you and kiss as I so badly wanted to kiss you. But baby, you will always be my first pregnancy. You will always be the first to inhabit my womb. I will remember you until the day I die.