You’re gone now. All that I can feel is the numb pain clenching in my belly, remembering me that once you were there.
I have to say that I miss you. Even if at the beginning I was groggy and angry about all the new symptoms and not expected feelings that you were causing. In time, day by day I learned to love you, to care and protect you, but unfortunately not good enough.
Looking back at the echo pictures I just wish I could wipe that horrible day from the calendar. Its been two weeks since the first visit at the doctor, the day when I understood that you were physically in there but not alive.
I wished to see you healthy, to hear your beautiful heart beat tumbling from the devices, to feel your first movements, to be your mother. But it was not meant to be.
Spending time in the full care of the doctors, seeing similar cases like mine, and being encouraged in every moment by the persons around me made me feel a little bit better.
The mood improved in presence of the persons who had to make feel different, but deep inside me the pain was still persistent.
I got to hear the tiny, little hearts of the small babies who were still in their mothers womb in the hospital. Bum, bum, bum beating strong, one beat after another. I just closed my eyes and wished for a second that heartbeat was yours.
I saw young mothers who were about to give birth to their beautiful children, scared of what tomorrow might bring but joyous for the present.
Most of all, the pain of letting you go was the strongest, little baby. There was a point where I thought that the mental pain was the painful thing that I would ever feel, but that was not true.
The physical pain was even greater. I remember yelling out to the doctor, begging him to stop that excruciating pain, crying out for help but a mean claw dragged you out of me and my life.
At the end of the procedure, the dry tears and hot blood along with the pain, were the only things that I could relate to. I heard the doctors leaving the room, felt the nurse making me a shot but all that I could see were white stars on the white ceiling. At that moment I just wanted to die.
My heart ached seeing and feeling all of these realities, and wished deeply and truly that those could not be a part of my life. But God saw another future for my life, God did not wanted you to happen.
I spent days overthinking about what did I do wrong, what caused you to move out of my life but could not find an answer. And neither the doctors.
I know that now you are in a better place, watching down upon us. My tears and the pain from my soul might upset you, but do understand that we were preparing to welcome you in our life, not to throw you away.
Now, I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, little baby. But if in the future, you decide to come again, I will be more prepared than ever and I will love you with all my heart.
With love, your mom.