Dear (imaginary) baby

Since the ‘incident’ that pushed me to decide there will (most likely) be no more babies, I’ve had a touch of melancholy mixed  with wistfulness about the baby I had imagined we would have.​  A piece written by Sash has encouraged me to vocalise this and in an effort to put it out there, let go and move on I wrote this.

Dear (imaginary) baby,​

If things were different we might be preparing for your conception, but instead I am packing away and getting rid of baby things that will not be used for you.​

But some reminders of your absence will not be packed away.

Some tangible like the beautiful rocking chair that I purchased thinking that it would be where I fed you and documented your first year, the special pieces of clothing belonging to Eve that I planned to use for you. 

Others intangible like the names rolling around now permanently relegated to the ether, Magnus if you were a boy Blythe if you were a girl or possibly Celia, maybe Astrid, they will not be narrowed down without you.

I watch Eve and her tenderness with new babies and am saddened that she will never meet you and teach you all the naughty and beautiful things that she excels at.​

​The knowledge that it has always been difficult does not diminish the sorrow of knowing I will never breastfeed again.  Nor does my puffy unmodel like pregnancy figure outweigh the desire to feel the strange beauty of feeling someone grow within me.

I wonder who you would have looked like and if you would have been laid back or busy like Eve.  ​

I wonder if my patience would have multiplied like I know my ​love would have.

Dear sweet (imaginary) little one I know you would have been a true blessing, I just don’t know that I would have been the mother that you deserve.​

All the love that I will never get to lavish on you.​

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10 thoughts on “Dear (imaginary) baby

  1. Oh such a hard decision. How does The Mister feel about it all?Mine would love 3+ kids, but I’ve always only wanted 2. I’ve made a conscious effort to frequently remind myself this is my last pregnancy- my last morning sickness, my last swollen belly, my last baby kicks, my past this, my last that… And will continue to do so with the labour and newborn stages.. Hoping it makes it easier to get closure when it’s time to move on from baby phase of our lives..

    It’s a really beautiful letter, thanks for putting it out there!

    PS great names

    • Ty is much more comfortable with no more babies than I am, I think these things would be a lot easier if we were both feeling exactly the same, you know?I did that with Eve and honestly I was sure I didn’t want any more until after I had her. So maybe the wanting is just a phase?PS thanks can’t wait to see what your new bub is named.

  2. Oh man I swear I commented on here damn you iPAD!!!

    We have just decided to wait and have a 2015 baby, it’s amazing how much discussion surrounds having more children. This was a beautiful letter.

    If Logan had been our second child then I know we would have closed the door on anymore children and I would’ve been exactly where you are. Our little firecrackers are hard work. I hope that comes off sounding as intended and not that our Logan and Eve are the solution to the world’s overpopulation problem! Because that’s not how I mean it but finding it hard to express it – I know you get me though (thankfully haha).

    • Bad website not cooperating with iPad!

      A decent age gap is a good thing, don’t let anyone pressure you to have them close together. Paige and Tarrant are 3&1/2 years apart and that worked/s well.

      I totally get what you mean don’t worry! It’s nice to know I’m not alone not that I’d choose to put others in the same exhausting boat. They’re worth it but it is hard.

  3. I’m visiting for the first time from Jodi’s project 52. So glad I’m here. This touched me. Really. It’s not often that I read a blog post and get teary-eyed. Because I might be done after one baby. And I’m not okay with that. I’m not okay with never breast-feeding again, or feeling a little person’s limbs push and stretch against me. And you said everything so perfectly, and so true, so I’m spilling my guts to a stranger on the internet, but somehow that, at least, is okay.

    • Thank you for sharing Erica. The more of us that are honest about these things means less of us feel alone and while that doesn’t take the sadness away it helps soften the hurt. I’m so sorry to hear you are feeling this pain after one baby.

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