A Letter to the Baby I Never Had
I wrote this after a very long and painful IVF journey. I needed a way to process everything I’ve been feeling. Sharing it here in the hope that it might help me let some of it out.
Dear baby,
I would have loved to have you, but it was a matter of technicality, a biological limitation.
I imagined holding you in my arms, caring for you, and loving you day after day.
I imagined us going to the park together, you in the stroller, me pushing you under the warm morning sun.
I imagined teaching you everything I know, and when I no longer could, I would start learning from you instead.
I imagined all sorts of things… a new life with you… a new definition of myself… a new world for both of us…
It was just a technicality that none of this happened. It was just, as they said, a matter of timing. That I should have wanted all of this earlier. Now it was too late. Even though there was nothing truly technical about it. It was purely emotional.
How could it be so irreversible, I thought. How could it be this definitive. I did not want to accept it. I still cannot. Maybe one day, if I try again… I know that this time it will be different…
None of it worked out. This is the hard, cold truth that I have to accept, even though it feels impossible to do so.
I would have loved to hold your small hand and walk with you while you asked me questions, and I tried my best to answer them without feeling anxious.
I would have loved to try to tame my anxiety, facing all kinds of uncertainties while raising you.
I guess I do not have to do any of these anymore. It is a life without those uncertainties, a life free of ups and downs, joys and fears.
It is just a life now, with only myself when I go for a walk, and the morning sun is not enough to keep my heart warm.
It will be a quiet life without you.
But I will try my best to live it to the fullest.
I promise you.