To my unborn daughter,
Let me start out by saying that I have no idea if you were going to be my daughter or my son. It felt almost ridiculous to think of you as a boy. I will never know, but on our last day together, I saw three metallic pink heart balloons floating away in the sky. I think that was a sign.
You were not an accident. Life is not created by accident. I deliberately created you without the intention of creating you. Calling you an accident would be disrespectful. I am responsible for my actions, no one else is. You were not an accident.
However, it was an accident that you became so much of you. I didn’t know you were there. You were hanging out with me all this time and I didn’t even know! You were patient. No, not patient. You were shy. All the times I felt alone… I wasn’t. Thank you for being with me for so long.
Thank you for choosing me.
I’m not sure where you went. I’ve thought about this a lot. On our last day together, I really broke down. I was so sorry and I was begging for you to come back later. Whatever you want to do, I am happy about. I am happy if you come back to me later, I am happy if you come back to your dad later, and I am happy if you are already with another family who wanted you oh so badly. There are so many families who want you.
Not that I didn’t want you. I don’t want you to think that. But there are so many families who need you. So many families who will give you the life that I want you to have but am not ready to give you yet.
But I promise that if you come back, I will be ready to give you that life. And when I hold you for the first time I won’t know if it’s you, but I will be thinking of you. Of course I will be.
I want to tell you what I thought when I still had you. These are the words I said:
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this
I’m not alone
You are nothing
You could be everything
I’m sorry that you cannot live because of some arbitrary structure of life
When I say it like that it makes me sad
I hope that it’s you again
I’ll be ready for you
Please come back
I promise, next time I’ll be ready”
I didn’t mean to say that you were nothing. When I wrote that, I definitely thought that you were less than you were.
But I did mean it when I said you could be everything. You could be everything to me, your dad, or your next family. You will be everything. But only you will know to whom you are everything.
I didn’t talk to you much. I knew it would be too hard. It would make it harder for both of us, actually. You got to know me, but I never got to know you. You never got to know me in context of you. You heard about me, but I never told you about me.
But this isn’t about me, it’s about you. I don’t know anything about you. I couldn’t look at you. I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t ask questions about you. Learning about you would have been the death of me.
My decision was not hard because I did not try to connect with you.
I did not try to connect with you because I knew what my decision had to be.
My decision was not hard, but the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life was . I don’t know how to phrase that. That sentence is incomplete. I don’t know what to call that. There are so many options but none of them sound right.
It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that you could’ve been here. In May. Spring is a great season. That’s the season of life. Right now it is winter.
Only 5 people in the entire world who really know me, know about you. Well, 6, if you include me.
Sometimes I feel things when I’m alone. I’m not sure if I should let myself feel those things or distract myself. It’s always at random times.
I feel like I’m rambling right now, and you probably don’t care about any of this. You don’t know me. And I didn’t try to know you. Why would you care?
I think it is very selfish of me to tell people about you. If I tell people, it means I want them to understand my perspective and a deeper part of me, or feel sympathy for me. That’s so unfair because I didn’t do those things for you.
One day I’ll know you. Promise me.