Dear baby,
I don’t know if dreams are our experiences from an alternate reality. If they are, you’re out there somewhere in the multiverse. Unfortunately, you will never appear in this one. At least not in the way I dreamt you.
Years ago I had a dream where I was playing with you on my bed. You were wearing the cutest white and green stripped shirt. You were a genuine mix of me and who-would-have-been your father. You were so adorable and cute.
But like I said, this version of you will never be here. Me and your father aren’t together anymore. Even when we were, I started noticing that I may not be up to going through childbirth. I was losing sleep at night at the idea of it. And then when I wasn’t losing sleep over that, it was questioning what my purpose was if I wasn’t going to be a mom.
Since leaving your father, I’ve been wondering if I will ever be ready to have a baby of my own someday.
Now my partner is pregnant. She’s in her third trimester. I can’t get over how brave she is and I’m in awe of her. Today, we took a childbirth class and I became so sad during it. Because I realized that there is a strong possibility that I will never feel ready to have a baby of my own. That I will always be afraid of pregnancy and childbirth. And I’m nervous of the day my partner gives birth. Not only because I don’t want to see her in pain, but I’m scared that watching it happen will be the nail in the coffin. That the idea of a child like you will be gone forever.
I am grateful to have a child through my partner but this child will never be mine like you are to me. She won’t have my genetics. She’s not Jewish. My parents aren’t her grandparents. Two of my parents don’t even know I’m dating my partners. And I’m not her mom, I’m her “Ommi”.
I’m sorry that I’m too scared. I’m sorry that I’m anxious and think of the worse case scenarios. I’m sorry that I’m a bit selfish and don’t want to share my body with you for 9 months. I’m sorry that I’m not brave enough to face childbirth between its pain and risks. And I’m sorry that I’m afraid of experiencing post-partum depression. I know it’s okay to be afraid, anxious, and sad. I just wish I could be brave for you, or excited to be a “mom” in the way I didn’t anticipate.
My therapist told me to write you a letter. I’m hoping it’s cathartic for me. And I hope my message makes its way to you where ever you are. Please know that I love you with all my heart even if you’re not real. I know he wanted to name you after him, but if I had the choice, your name would be Spencer.
Spencer, I hope I find the strength to bring you to this earth. I have so much I want to show you and teach you. I want to watch you celebrate holidays and come to synagogue with me, and see you read from the Torah on your bar mitzvah. I’d give you my talis and yarmulke that Oma made me. I want to take you on roadtrips like my dad did with me. I want to introduce you to rugby and hockey. I want to cook and go on hikes with you. I want to see you play and grow. I want to show you how to play guitar, piano, or whatever instrument you want to learn. I want to go to your parent-teacher nights and help you with your homework. I want to teach you right and wrong. I want to clean up your messes. I want to show you how to love others in a healthy way. I want to be the best mom I can be. For now, I’ll do what I can for your sister.
I love you, Spencer. I hope we meet someday, and you meet your other parents and sister. And even if we don’t meet you, know that I will love you always.
- Your mother.
For the longest time, I haven’t thought much about you in all of this.
I mean, yes, of course I thought of you, but I never found myself really sad or angry about losing you. You unfortunately got lost amongst the mess and chaos.
Now that it’s been over a year since I started dating you, I am feeling it. I feel you in the summer air and the humid nights. I feel you when I close my eyes and hear Harry Styles or Beach Bunny. I see you in sunflowers and vinyl records. I never expected summer to feel like you. I find myself missing your soft skin and gentle nature. I have been thinking about the day we spent in Boston together walking amongst the flowers and trees at the arboretum, holding hands with you at Pride and being so proud to tell my friends about you, or walking around Manhattan with you to see MISSIO and then telling you I love you for the first time.
I wish I could’ve loved you as much as I wanted to. I loved you, but not as much as I should’ve. But I was so appreciative of you. You brought a small sense of peace to my home where I wasn’t feeling it when you weren’t around. You were close to what I had been looking for.
I guess now I’m hurt. The feeling is unexpected and later than I anticipated. You promised to hear my side of the story, but flat out refused after hearing his. You asked for money back for activities we were going to do together immediately after speaking with him. You said you loved me. So why didn’t you speak with me? Why didn’t you ask for my side of the story?
I’m sorry I didn’t answer your last message. I was hurting at this point and I knew you were spending a lot of time with him. I’m not sure if you’re still dating, or if you guys are just friends. I honestly don’t care at this point. But at that time I did. Not because I was jealous, but because it was being hidden from me. I also had found out he was trying to fish information from my therapist at this time so I thought that he was asking you to reach out to me so he could see what I’m doing.
Everything has been so complicated. I’m disappointed that this has also been when I didn’t expect it. I lost so many people, but I suppose I didn’t expect to lose you. I’m hurt that I did. And I’m just so sorry that I didn’t love you like you deserve.
“When you look at your life and feel at peace because of changes you’ve made, that’s recovery.”
— Unknown
feelinglame
