First time mum/referee/ sleeve snot wiper to a wild toddler. Designated household bum changer. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest and unfiltered perspective.

Little Life Lost, a letter...


The only thing I felt roll in my stomach was the steady persistence of nausea. I had yet to feel the faint little flutters of your feet press against my expanding stomach. The tranquil ecstasy of your drumming heartbeat never echoed around the doctors office.

I never heard your first cries erupt around the surgically clean hospital room while I lay in a euphoria of adoration and contentment. I never got to kiss your little forehead. To stare at you in a cloud of awe that you were mine, to hold you in my arms. I never got to whisper that I love you. I never got the chance to buy you outfits, to paint your room, to browse through baby books in search of the perfect name. I didn't get to whisk you home, to murmur you lullabies late at night or cradle you to sleep.


I wish I was the Mum complaining about my lack of sleep, or aching, engorged breasts. I wish I was moaning about the appearing stretch marks and raging hormones. I wish I was preparing my hospital bag with your neatly folded outfits and bouncing in anticipation of your impending arrival.  I wish I was tossing and turning each night because you've secured yourself a comfortable position in my ribs. I wish I was gearing myself up for the worst pain in my life that I would forget as soon as you were placed in my beckoning, outstretched arms.

I wonder if you would have had my jet black hair or your dads crooked grin. Would you devour books by night, escaping in other worlds or would you splash life onto a canvas. Would you snap those precious moments to be yours forever? Or would your mind talk in numbers and equations, science and fact?

How is it fair that so many others get to hold their babies and the only console I have is a fading memory? That all I can do is wonder and and wish and yearn. That all I am consumed with is anger and jealousy and bitterness. I feel angry that my body failed me. That I wasn't able to keep you safe. That the only empty comfort is a statistic, that these things just happen.
We had to say goodbye, and I just was never ready.

I'll never get to watch you grow. To hear you stutter your first words or stumble your first few shaky steps. I'll never feel you creep into my room when the bad dreams keep you up at night. I won't get to walk you to school or help you tackle those tricky math questions. I'll never be acquainted with your first love or watch your face brighten at the mention of their name. I'll never hear your wonderful laugh fill my ears.

What if, what if, what if...
You are a unyielding longing of what could have been, should have been. I yearn for all the times we won't share together. All the things I won't get to say. How can I miss you when I never even got to know you? I miss the times that never happened. I long for the you I've conjured in my mind.

If I ever give you siblings, I know you will always shine through them. Your smile mirrored through theirs. I know I will think of you in everything I do. 

You took a part of me with you. A piece of my heart will always belong to you. You are my favourite what if that I never got to meet.
My heart will ache for you, and love you.
Always.

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