I have dreamt about you for years. I can't tell you how many nights I have laid in bed, my hands on my belly, willing you into existence-or how many times I sat in the silence of my car, thinking of you, almost sure I could see you and feel you growing. I dreamt of our life together. I dreamt of you with you brother and sisters, laughing and running around the house. I have spent countless hours laying on the couch, daydreaming of how you felt in my arms, the smell of your warm milkiness stuck on my skin. I could see your round pink lips sucking in your sleep and your pillow hand curled around my finger. I saw you growing in my belly. I felt you kick. I saw you sleeping in the stroller. I saw your first steps. I saw you learn to talk, jump, run, and skip. I saw the day I dropped you off at daycare. I saw your first day of preschool and your first loose tooth. I saw your sisters hold you and your brother kiss you. My littlest one-I have wished for you so hard that I almost forgot you were just that-a wish, a hope, a dream, a whisper.
Today, I am so sad because I have lost you...not one, not twice, but three times. You were growing inside me and then you weren't. I blame myself for for not being strong enough to hold onto you. My head knows differently, but my heart still hurts. I have lost you so much more than that-every month for two years I was sure you were with me, and every month I have mourned the loss of you. But today, today is the worst because I not only mourn the loss of you-but I mourn the loss of the possibility of you.
Littlest one, know this-I tried so very hard for you. I wanted you more than anything and I would continue to feel pain and loss for months on end if I knew that eventually I would get to hold you in my arms. But sadly, the doctor said that isn't possible. I am so sorry. I am sorry I am old and my body has failed you and your dad. I am sorry for the life I can't give you or your father. I am so sorry that my best just wasn't good enough to make it work this time. I am having difficulty getting over the fact that I have lost this battle. My body is sore and tender from the anger and frustration that is richocheting inside. I hate losing-I also know there is absolutely no point in battling God.
Time will move on and you will become a shadow in my heart. A shadow that I hide with light and glitter because I am afraid of the dark. I will move on and be happy and live and love and appreciate the gifts I have-but I will always be sad that you weren't able to grow up with me.
My love for you is great, and I am so sorry it just wasn't enough.
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