Blighted

To one who was never meant to be,

I know I could not have stopped your leaving. For reasons I may never understand, my body couldn’t keep you; or you couldn’t keep my body. Biologically, I know my society doesn’t consider you a person or even alive. But, for a few weeks, you were so real to me. Inside myself, I imagined your growth: your spine taking shape, the beginnings of your heart, brain, soul. How does a soul take shape?

Logically, I am told you had no soul; you weren’t a being yet. Yet, in my mind you were. I could already imagine you. I know I was scared about you coming into my life, into Graham’s life. “Am I ready?” I kept asking myself. I was so shocked when we found out. I couldn’t believe we conceived you on our first try. I wasn’t expecting it—and then I was expecting. Expecting what?

For a split-second, I thought Graham and I had made a mistake. What were we thinking, thinking we were ready to bring a child into this world? Who are we kidding? Since you’ve gone, I worry that those thoughts somehow caused your departure. I’m sorry. I never felt like I didn’t want you. Just as I felt I was beginning to understand all this and accept the changes to my body, it seemed to be over. You were gone before you could begin.

How wonderful you would have been. Celia, or Benjamin, or Nathanial, Ryanne; who ever you were going to be, you would have been beautiful. I imagine you as this tiny bundle of Graham and I—but more peaceful and innocent—taking in your world from the moment you were conceived—and Smudge would have loved you too, though she can be selfish at times.

I was so prepared to be the best mother to you. Holding you close to me and telling you with every molecule of my being that you are loved and wanted in this world. I envisioned you at my breast, eyes closed and nourishing your tiny body with my milk. Me into you—feeling home.

How do I part with you—with the you I have imagined? Do I hold onto those visions? Presumably. It’s painful though, to reckon your absence that never really was presence. But you were present to me.

I’ve never lost anyone before. I’ve never had to say goodbye this way. Beyond that, how do I say goodbye to someone who never had the chance to be?

I love you. I’ve loved you so much from the moment I knew. I still love you, so much, and I’ll always remember how you came into my life. You made me want to love so much and be like my own mother who is truly a saint in my life. You made me think about spirituality and life beyond the obvious physical world. Your conception, you were amazing and your presence brought me peace. How peaceful and exhilarating at the same time you made me feel. Peace for the miracle of nature and love that Graham and I made you from. And exhilaration from the knowledge that life can be inside of me—life beyond my own. Thank-you for your short presence. I’m grateful that I had you in my mind and body as long as I did.

Love always,

Me, who would have been your mother.