Her knitted little beanie lies on my bedside. It is a bright yellow, a color of sunshine and happiness, joy, and positivity. All that I felt and so much more whenever I think of her in my arms. Or in my heart. Or anywhere in my life. I feel it all at once.
With a broken heart, I reach out to it, and it breaks my heart like the first time. I miss her. Oh, dear Lord I miss her.
I miss the baby I never had.
Unfortunately, I am one of those women who are just not lucky enough to bear a child. Or not easily, at least. Every time that I get my monthly period, I am devastated to the worst degree. But every time that it comes a day or two late, my hopes skyrocket. And every month, every damn month, I am stuck with that cycle.
Countless times, I have found myself slumped on the kitchen floor, holding that test kit with a single red line with my heart torn and my hopes gone. Slowly fading like the cigarette smoke her would-have-been father runs to for comfort.
Countless times, I find myself trying to put myself back together just in case my baby comes.
Oh, the joy it would be if she comes! Oh, the lust for life I would have! But she doesn’t come. Nor stay. No, she doesn’t stay.
I always go back to the one night I lost her. That one night when I felt the world’s weight on my shoulders. I ran towards the bathroom to find comfort. But I did not make it. I had one hand on the doorknob, and one hand desperately grasping for life. My body was not in pain but my soul was. My heart sank to the cores of the earth and helplessly, I watched blood run through my legs. I was so scared. I screamed for my life and for her. I was watching life literally going down the drain.
I knew, in that moment, she was there. I felt she was there.
And like any other day of my dreadfully miserable life, I was yet again heartbroken and devastated.
I missed my period for a few days. Scared of another heartbreak, I refused to check. I refused to be a slave of that other line that refused to show up. I lived my life the way I have always done – burdened, broken, and senseless. Had I known that I was carrying a new life inside of me, I would have been more careful. I would have been happier. I would have been better.
But I didn’t know. I wasn’t careful. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t better. And now I’m never going to get better. Because I miss her.
I miss the smile that she would have had. I miss the hugs that she would have given me every time I make her favorite chocolate chip cookies. I miss the times I would have looked aimlessly at her adoring that little nose and those tiny little feet. I miss the feeling I would have felt every time she would call me ‘mommy.’
I miss the baby and the lady that she would have been. I miss the little person that is half me and half the person I live for.
One day, she may come. But maybe she won’t. And whatever happens, I know I will miss her a little more every day. I will continue remembering and loving the little angel, the little child that I never had.
Featured Image Credit: Olliss