Dear Baby Who May Never Come to Be,
A year ago, I gave birth to my youngest child and with that, I gave birth to the possibility and hope of you. She was born in a birth story that wasn’t what I wanted, but she was warm, and snuggly, and perfect, and I just knew she couldn’t be my last one. I just knew, almost instantly, that we are meant to have one more. You.
But your daddy isn’t so sure and I don’t know that you will ever be anything more than a persistent and painful longing in my heart. I don’t know if we’ll ever get to meet, you and me, solid warm skin to solid warm skin. Will you ever leave the place of possibility and come into the now? Will you ever exist, except in the yearning that grips me from the inside and won’t let go? Will you ever exist, except in the divide that separates Daddy and I? You are there in that great crevice, small and fragile but also loud and big to me, because you wander through my thoughts a thousand times a day. You are there, but I fear you may never be here. With me. In my arms. The arms that long to hold you.
There are days when it’s as if God Himself has told me you will be mine. I am that sure of it. You feel so real to me that I can almost see your cherub face and smell your sweet newborn wetness and hear the tiny sighs and chirps that you would make in your sleep. Maybe it’s just muscle memory, given that I’ve had four before you, but it’s as if I can already feel the soft weight of you against my chest. Sometimes, I can even see the outline of you in a vision of our future. I can see how you would fit into our lives and I know you are exactly what’s intended for us. But then there are other days. Other days when it all feels like a beautiful dream someone wakes up from, tears on her cheeks and a sinking in her heart because she knows it’s not true and never will be. Those days are painful days, thinking of a life without you.
So there are lots of unknowns right now, Maybe Baby, and that is hard for me, who finds peace and security in knowing as much as I can always. But here is what I do know: I think of you often. I pray for you daily. I plan our lives as if you will be a part of it. I want you as much as I have ever wanted anything. And not just because I want to give birth again, which I do, very much. But because it feels as though there is room for one more inside this house, this family, and our hearts. Contrary to what I once believed, I’m not sure that this family is yet complete. I think we are waiting for you.
And if I’m being honest, in my heart, you belong to us already. You are ours, part of our story, a piece of my life and future and the fabric of who I am. Whether or not you ever exist in the here and now, one thing will always be true: you are mine and I am yours. The rest — all the details — is up to God. I will go to war for you, Baby. I will not let this break me, or Daddy, or the beautiful combination of Daddy and I together as best friends and life partners, but I won’t give up on you either. I will fight for you. I will fight for your existence, for your life. I will do all I can do. And then I will just release it into God’s hands. He is the All-Knowing and He knows me and He knows you. You, even the possibility of you, are His. I take comfort in that.
To me, you are kismet. And I don’t know if that’s intuition or foolish hope, but I believe there is a purpose to this desire I have inside of me. I hope that purpose is you. And I hope, with time, we’ll discover that you were always meant to be. Baby, you are wanted and loved. Come to me if you can. I’m waiting.
Your Maybe Mommy