My hope was to give you a great life; free of disfunction, full of hope. I pictured us standing on beautiful oak hard-wood floors playing with Legos on a Sunday morning. Holding your tiny hand while we had adventures at the local parks, made new friends, and adopted our first puppy. I imagined a tire-swing in the back-yard where I would watch you play while I washed dishes, and planned our healthy meals for the week. I believed that one day we would purchase your school supplies together, and I would rush home from work elated to hear about your first day of school.
In a panicked flash, my dreams flushed down the toilet with the remnants of my failed pregnancy. I admit it, I wasn’t ready for you when I got pregnant. But I loved you anyway, and wanted the absolute best for you, and had advantageous plans to give you the best life I possibly could. I really believed that we would have a beautiful life together, and I could have been a great mom.
But, just like that one day—I felt sick, and minutes later, you were gone. It happened so fast, you were there and the next minute I was on the toilet violently hemorrhaging and crying my eyes out. I missed you, I will always miss you, and in my heart I know we will meet again. I named you River…because I knew that’s what you were meant to be named.
I’m so sorry…. My hopes and dreams didn’t come in fruition….No one will ever love you more than I do. I’ll always miss you, and wonder what might have been. Until we meet again.
Love you, miscarried baby.
Your Mom on earth
Willow Moon Greymoor is a freelance writer, book reviewer and beta reader. When she isn't writing or contemplating how to write her next novel. Willow can be found reading and reviewing books; her life revolves around literature and helping authors succeed.
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