An open letter to the child I may not get to meet
Updated: Dec 6, 2020
We weren’t planning for you, your father and me. You came as a complete surprise. And because we hadn’t planned for you, our first reaction was shock instead of bliss. I wish it wasn’t. As we began to get used to the idea of you though, we got more and more excited.
There were some questions in the beginning of if you were really a you. We got conflicting results on our pregnancy tests and so we got blood work done to confirm which result was true. You were a you. And in the same breath, I was concerned about you. My numbers were really low, which could have indicated we found you very early, or there was a problem.
And now, loaded with this heart wrenching and mind-numbing information, I am filled with fear.
I hope you know that we may not have planned for you, but we love you unconditionally. I hope you know that the moment I got a positive pregnancy test, my thoughts turned to you and I changed the things I needed to instantly. I hope you know I am doing what I can to give you the best chance. I hope I get to look in your eyes and tell you that one day. That I did everything in my power, that I fought hard to get you here.
I hope I get to meet you. Snuggle you. Smell you. See who you will become and what things you will accomplish. I hope I get to witness it all.
I hope I get to see you playing and laughing with your older sister. Torturing your dogs like you undoubtedly will. Screeching with joy as you and Addison chase them through the yard.
And if I don’t get to witness that. If I don’t get to see the color of your eyes, or feel your fingers wrap around mine. If I don’t get to feel the weight of your sweet, sleeping head on my shoulder, please know how truly sorry I am that I couldn’t do more.
If I don’t get to read you your favorite bedtime story, or wipe your tears or sing you songs, please know that, even though it may have been brief, I loved you with my whole heart. And I always will.