To the one I will never know,
I only spent 63 days with you. I never held you in my arms, I never heard you cry, I only saw you twice, but I promise I will always love you. I don’t regret the decision that your Dad and I made. We knew we couldn’t give you all of the opportunities you deserved. Deep down though, I really just wish I could have had the chance to explain this to you. I wish I could have told you that you were loved, and that it wasn’t that we didn’t want you; we knew we couldn’t have you. The world is a cruel, evil place to be in, and I knew that the time wasn’t right for you to enter it. The short days I spent with you were so hard. My body didn’t seem to like sharing with your tiny body, but the day I gave you up, my body didn’t want to let go of you. I try to talk about you, even today, but nobody will ever understand the short and complicated bond we shared. Your Daddy is a great man, but even he cannot comfort me because he simply doesn’t know about what I feel. I feel sad sometimes, when I think about all of the love your Dad and I could have shared with you. I feel angry sometimes that I couldn’t provide for you and that you had to be labeled as an “accident”. Baby, you will never be an accident to me. Yes, you were a surprise, and yes we had done everything to keep you from happening, but if it wasn’t for you I would have never felt the deep love I still feel for you. The mother and child and bond is one that never goes away, not even after death. You taught me so much, and it was through your existence that I found courage and a strength that I had never felt before in my life. I want to thank you for happening. Someday I know we will meet again, when the time is right for us to be together, when I can carry you with pride, and when everyone can be excited for you to arrive into the world and welcome you with open arms. I’ll be waiting for you.