It’s been two years. I still think of you everyday when I see children or babies. I never really got over it. It hurt too much for me to explain how I really felt, thus no one could really talk to me about it. Losing you was probably the most soul killing thing I’ve ever experienced. No type of physical or sexual abuse I’ve ever endured quite measured up to the pain of losing a child.
I wish I had known I was pregnant. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Maybe I would’ve taken care of myself for your safety. So you didn’t die inside me. I think of how different my life would’ve been and here I might be if you had been born. I try to picture your face in my head. Sometimes I can see you, a little boy or girl laughing, jumping from her father’s bed down to the floor or playing your father’s video games while I cooked you something to eat and yelled at you in Spanish to stop whatever silliness you were doing that might be dangerous. I imagine taking you to the mall with me and putting you in little outfits and shoes to make you look cute.
I know you were never really here but I miss you so much. I loved you. Whether I knew about you or not, you were mine and just knowing that I lost you hurts me every single day. I love you, my miracle. I don’t know how you came about nor why you had to leave me so soon without so much of a goodbye but I love you. I will remember you or the rest of my days. Goodbye, baby. I hope heaven is treating you right. Lord knows I would’ve loved you more than anything in this world, but also that I wasn’t ready. I accept that, but I will forever regret losing you.
I love you.