To My Little Girl
To the baby I never had,
I want to start by saying I know this letter is not necessary. I know you are high up in the clouds, having adventures I couldn’t even dream of. Even though you’ll never get to personally read these words, I feel like there’s something that just needs to be said.
First off, I chose to have an abortion for many reasons, however it was not because I did not love you, or want you. Both of those statements are the furthest thing from the truth. The truth is I loved you from the moment those double lines appeared on that test. I felt feelings for you I’ve never been able to feel for anything else in this world. The first day I saw you I fell even deeper. You were so small, so vulnerable and a stubborn little thing to find at first! I remember I didn’t breathe from the time she put that warm jelly on my belly, until you appeared on that screen. You gave me the gift of hearing your little heart beat. And for the first time I understood, I really understood what motherly love was. I dreamt of meeting you, holding you in my arms for the first time, smelling your head, holding your little hands.
You may not have known, but you even had a name. From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I knew you were a girl. I had no proof, no medical evidence, just this profound gut, without-a-doubt feeling. I thought about who you would be… I hoped you’d have my blonde hair, and grandma’s hazel eyes.
I truly cherish the 10 weeks we had together. I could tell you so many things I already got to know about you. For starters, you LOVE beef jerky, lemonade and mini marshmallows. I’m not totally sure what you had against spicy foods, but I couldn’t even smell spice without running to the closest bathroom.
I remember the drive to the clinic. It was January and incredibly cold and grey. The waiting room was freezing, and incredibly lonely, quite possibly the loneliest I’ve ever felt. I remember distinctly holding both hands over my tummy, and feeling my heart get heavier and heavier. I was able to ward off the tears until the nurse walked in asking my how my day was going. I completely broke down.
She needed to get an ultra sound image of you to confirm how far along I was. Although this time I was not allowed to see you. I felt robbed. I felt overwhelmingly upset by the fact that a total stranger was the last person blessed to see you.
I swallowed the first pill, this stopped you from growing. I was sent off with a prescription for pain medication, and 4 other pills. The intense pain, I endured over the next 48 hours were unbearable. The vomiting, the cramps, the contractions… the room was constantly spinning, I was sweating bullets, but felt cold as ice. I recall sitting in my bath tub crying. Regretting everything. Wishing things could have been different, wishing that I could have been ready for you.
But sweet heart, trust me. I was selfish. I’m still selfish. I’m not ready for you, and frankly I don’t deserve something as great as you. I’m so consumed with myself, and finishing school, and getting an adult job, moving out of my apartment… If I had added you to the mix, it would have been a struggle for us both. But the decision wasn’t just for my own selfish needs, but for my overriding concern for your well being. I need to protect you. From the situation, from your dad, from his family.
Where ever you are my love I hope you forgive me. I hope you understand, and I hope someday I get to meet you again, and give you that hug I’ve been waiting for, for so long.