Letter To My Unborn
Though my heart was broken because I never knew you, my unborn, unknown, unfamiliar thought, the one that was much more than an inkling, yet never as familiar as the whisper of a hope. Though I longed for you in this life and never would feel your hand in my own, I would be blessed by children of those who couldn’t see through their own familiarity with fertility to see into the desperation of my own childlessness. I was never one with my dream the way I would have been if I’d only known the beautiful of seeing you born, cuddled and carried gently against my form. Little one, how I longed to see you, hold you, press you close to my heart where there was no doubting the music felt playing in my breast as I sensed the whisper of your tenderness. I yearned for you. I burned for you. I ached and pined and wished. Still, nothing that my spirit craved was brought to life by the labor of my hopes, the formation of your limbs, the delivery of my dreams. You were never conceived. You would never be carried inside me. You would never breathe or play or dream. You would be merely a fantasy secreted within, where the charms of your giggles played softly, murmuring ghostly hunger that would never be filled, a hunger for the joy of holding you close, a hunger for the blessing of love with no conditions, love that is more than big, love that is beyond explanation – it abides, the soul’s tender gift of a baby, a life, a light who shines bright throughout the years.
infertility
pieces of my heart, falling
aching tears – anguish
Everything I wanted you to know, the truths, the blessings, the affections. Like dreams pouring out hope and faith, glistening softly, reflections of joy carried into the night on the wings of fireflies – sparkling in the sky, stars who have been waiting patiently for the wish to come true. My wish, it was you. You were there with me when I pressed my lips in a first kiss. You smiled when I knew this love was my answer. You filled my heart with pleasure when I remembered we’d one day meet. But, it never happened. You were never to be. You, my little one, were only a fated desire, a made-up piece of sweetness, a fictionalized caress. You were invented by me because, it is true, I always thought you would, one day, be you. You were the child of mine. You would walk beside me. You would look into my eyes. You would invite me into your life. A pipedream. I ached for it to come true but it wasn’t meant to be. I would never know the one I would have named who?
barren, my heart aches
trembling from the hope that fades
yearnings unfulfilled
Would I have raised you to be a light, a smile, a kindness? Would I have given you wings when I yearned to keep you with me? Would I have stifled your dreams or would I have pushed you to be all that you wanted to be? I’ll never know what it means to embrace you or touch you with my song. I’ll never read the joy written on your heart. I’ll never feel the warmth of your love silencing my every doubt. I’ll never know you. It is true that I won’t know you but I must know that there was a reason you were never formed. I know that God has a reason and even though I can’t see, I can know that His wisdom is filled with grace and hope. His wisdom has inspired me to write these words and His wisdom has sent a fire through my soul that is making me whole even though I don’t know you, the little dream that faded beneath the struggles with infertility, the trouble that would haunt me and taunt me and reveal to me the memories of a make believe world I ached for, the make believe world where I prayed for that make believe life. There, in that make believe, lives a child who will never be mine.
make believe baby
tempting me, that strong craving
little one, my dream
Copyright ©
Regina Mcintosh
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