I’m so sorry.
I’m sorry for the life you lost before you had a chance to meet. I’m sorry that year after year, on her due date, you wonder what she’d have looked like another year older. I’m sorry you cannot hear her cry or laugh or see her peeling skin on her tiny newborn toes. I’m sorry that when you see a child with bouncing curls you wonder, would her curls have bounced? Would she have dimples on her knuckles and skin as soft as petals? I’m sorry you’ll never know.
And dear friend, I’m sorry that I cannot quite grasp the depth of your grief. Grief not only for your lost child but for the expectation to move on. I’m sorry if you felt your grief had a deadline, and that you clammed up when you knew your allotted time was over. You deserve endless hours of grace, my friend, and I’m sorry we rushed you.
I’m sorry if you felt betrayed by your body.
I’m sorry you blamed it and yourself. It’s not your fault, dear friend. It was never your fault. I wish I could say “some things just aren’t meant to be,” but I don’t think you believe that. She was meant to be yours. She was meant to be here. I’m sorry that she’s not and that you only can talk about her life as it may have been and not as it is.
I’m sorry that I made you feel angry and jealous. I was lucky that every pink line became a baby in my arms. I know it troubled you, as you battled internal demons that made you struggle to see someone succeed where you felt you’d failed. And I’m sorry that your anger made you feel guilty. I’m sorry I was happy when you were sad, that I was made a mother in the flesh, and you a mother in the spirit. It’s not fair, it was never fair.
Friend, I would never wish a loss on anyone, especially not you. I wish I had the words and the wisdom to bring you peace and help you smile. I wish that time was really all anyone needed to heal. But above all, like you, I wish that baby was here, living life with us. Perhaps she’s in Heaven. Perhaps her remains nourished a seed that grew into a lovely flower and made another child happy. Perhaps one day, when we think of her, we can smile.
What I can promise is that we will continue to think of her, because even though she isn’t with us, she remains yours. I know your children number more than what we see. I’m sorry she’s just a memory, mama. But please know, I remember her. I’ll always remember her.
