Dear Baby

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, so naturally I've been thinking about you non-stop, Baby. We didn't plan you. Not really. We talked about you, asked for you, tried for you and dreamed about you for a long time. But then we'd given up and accepted we'd never have you. And we felt okay with that decision.

But then something so miraculous happened, and we made you. 

When I found out I was carrying you, I was terrified. I was terrified of the changes my body was going to have to make, terrified of how I was going to physically bring you into the world, terrified wondering if we were ready for you. But a few days later, the fear subsided and I was so happy about you. I talked to you, sang to you, put my hands on my stomach in hopes you would feel my love. We talked about what we would name you. We looked at the furniture you would sleep in and the stroller we would push you around in. We told our loved ones about you. Suddenly everything was about you.

You made me sick almost every day. I felt the strain growing you had on my system. But it was also a reminder that you were there, doing what you were supposed to be doing. A week before our 10 week sonogram, I started to feel a little better, and that filled me with a rush of excitement. I was so excited to see you. We waited with baited breath to see your tiny body on the giant screen in the doctor's office. She found you so quickly. There you were. So real. Your daddy squeezed my arm, smiling. The energy and love in the room was palpable.

But then there was silence as she snapped a million pictures of you and the energy in the room changed. I was still, trying not to panic, but my instincts took over and I asked her if everything was okay. If you were okay. She put her hand on my knee and quietly told me you were gone. That you'd been gone for a week. Your tiny heart had stopped beating. I felt the air leaving my body as your daddy took my hand.  We talked to the doctor and she told us what would happen next, but I hardly heard a word she said. All I could think about was you. That I'd only gotten to carry you for 10 short weeks. That I'd never even know if you were a boy or a girl. Whether you were our son or our daughter.

And then I mourned you. I still mourn you.

I was okay with never having you...Before there was a you. Then all I wanted was you. People kept telling me that we could try again. That maybe we could have another baby. But I didn't want another baby. I just wanted you.

I may have gotten only 10 weeks with you. But for the rest of my life, I will love you.