We tried so hard to have you, but it wasn’t meant to be. I try to have faith that everything happens for a reason, but losing something that was a part of me seems so unfair. I still find myself thinking about what it would have been like to have you, name you, hold you in my arms and watch you grow. It’s almost like I lost a part of me when I lost you. I guess in a lot of ways I did. I have accepted the fact that we will never be, but what if we were? When I think about the “what ifs” I often find myself wondering what it would have been like to see myself in you. What would I have taught you?
Because I am a doctor, most people would assume I am pretty smart. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though, I’m really not. I am hard-working. I studied ALOT. Things didn’t come easy to me so I had to study twice as long as most of my peers. What I didn’t have in natural abilities, I made up for in passion, drive and the willingness to put in the hours. I would have taught you that you need to work hard at everything you do whether it’s working the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant (I was REALLY good at it :)) or studying for medical school. I would have loved to see you burning the midnight oil preparing for a test, beating down doors to get your dream job, or trying hard to take those first baby steps to land into my outstretched arms…
Being able to show love has been hard for me because I started building walls when I was a little girl. I think being an overachiever has allowed me to hide behind these walls which have proven very difficult to take down even as an adult. I know I have lost out on some beautiful moments because I have been too stubborn and scared to see what was on the other side. I would have taught you to never be afraid to show anyone love and be willing to be the one to take that first step. I would have taught you that being able to love without regret or fear doesn’t make you weak; it makes you stronger. I will always believe that if I had the chance to love you, the walls would have finally crumbled around me.
I would have loved you short or tall, punk or preppy, athletic or awkward, Democrat or Republican, gay, straight or undecided. I would have loved you. I have always found differences in people, places and beliefs so intriguing. I think traveling and education helped me open my mind to all of the possibilities we can experience in life, and I would have wanted you to relish in every inch of beauty and heartache this world has to offer. I would have taught you that opening your mind will only make you better human being and give you more opportunity to grow and learn. Opening my mind to other possibilities when doors were closing right in front of me led me to you.
Five cycles of IVF resulted in that one perfect possibility-you. Going through IVF was not easy for me, but I vividly remember the day when I got the call that we finally had one normal embryo. I was so happy. I was so hopeful. One normal embryo was all I needed. “It only takes one!”, everyone said. I also remember the day when I realized it wasn’t going to happen for us. I could have retreated. I could have let it defeat me. I didn’t, though. I quickly began to think of what options were still left for me. I didn’t give up. I bounced back like I always have when something doesn’t go as planned for me. I am a fighter. I know you would have been one too because you would have learned it from me.
Losing you was the single hardest thing I have ever had to do. You were a part of me. You would have been a better version of me. How do I recover from losing you? How do I go on? I don’t know that I will ever get over it. I don’t know that I want to get over it. The one thing I do know is that I have to keep living. Somewhere deep inside I feel there is something better in my future; even if it is a future without you. I will explore the other options available for me to build a family, and hopefully one day I will be able to teach my child all of the good things that I am and the things I want to be. In my mind and in my heart, though, you will always remain my perfect possibility.