My dear Heart,

Could you love me? I will never know. Did I love you? You will never know.

I only knew you for a short time, and in that time, I did not truly know you at all.

You were a part of me. Sharing in every task I undertook, affecting me in ways you could not grasp. Your life intertwined with my own. Without my knowledge, at first, without my understanding. You accompanied me before I knew of your existence; before you could know of mine. Your presence was a question I did not know how to ask.

Your creation was an expected accident; the event had a grotesque beauty to it. Your conception was one of fluid and pain, salt and sweet, some muscles tense while others relaxed in a spontaneous tempo.

You will never know of the sleepless nights I spent in silent tears, accompanied by smoldering sticks of tobacco as I stood outside in the January darkness. The crisp wind enveloped me in a frigid blanket. Wisps of my hair escaping from under the hood of my jacket, clinging as if by static to the cold cloth of the nightime breeze.

You came too early, but only because I brought you here too early. You left too early, but only because the universe knew I was not yet ready to share my short 20 years of life with another soul.

Could you love me? I will never know. Did I love you? You will never know.

My dear Heart, my unborn child, I wish you could have stayed with me a little while longer.

Love,

Mommy