To Baby Borchgrevink

Dear Baby Borchgrevink

I do not know if you’re a boy or a girl. I do not know what your fingers are like. I don’t know what it feels like when you kick inside of me. I was never given a chance to do so. I do, however, know what unconditional love is. 

You are wanted, even from the moment of your very existence. You are cherished. You are treasured and deeply loved.  Before you were even conceived, I thought of you and fell in love. Sometimes you hear couples talk of love at first sight; though I believe they are committed to one another and have concrete feelings, I also firmly believe love at first sight is seeing the first sonogram. The screen is fuzzy and you’re questioning if that’s an arm or a belly, but the love is there. Love at first sight is also felt when seeing the first pregnancy test affirming a positive result. With such knowledge, the seed is planted and continually flourishes. 

I dream of you. I dream of your face. I dream of your baby noises. I have a dream in which I have given you a bath, and am in your nursery rocking you back and forth. Your eyes are closed, your body tightly swaddled.  Like Emma, you are long-lashed, but your chin and cheeks are your own. Holding you to my chest, my heartbeat is a lullaby. I breathe in your scent; you are clean and smell like hope, love, and fulfillment. You drift off to sleep, and in the soft darkness of your room, I am content. I am whole.

I dream of you as a toddler. You are inquisitive and fearless.  Other times you’re shy and cautious, looking to your father or me for support. Emma holds your hand and is your partner in crime. You have a lovable laugh and a liking for nature. Emma bestows crowns made from wildflowers upon you. Your back is turned to me, in this particular dream, and when you turn around – you are smiling. The sun is behind you, lighting up your body. You are happy. You race towards me, flinging yourself into my arms, and I inhale your scent. No longer do you smell of baby shampoo, but the warm sunshine and earth; your hands are dirty from digging for treasure with Princess Emma. You call me, “mommy,” and I call you “my darling love”. 

But it is here I wake up. My mind does not allow these dreams to go further because it’s such a dark unknown. Beneath the feelings of love there is a deep sense of loss, a subconscious level of truth. Despite dreaming of you, my heart knows these are only dreams and you are gone. My subconscious will not allow me to think beyond your early years. It is much too painful. It simply hurts too much.

From the moment you were conceived, your father and I have been ecstatic to meet you. We lay in bed, wrapped together in the sheets, and talk of you. What color are your eyes? Will you be feisty like Emma or perhaps quiet natured? We dream about the sort of man or woman you’ll grow up to be. How we will raise you. How we will always love you. Please remember you are always wanted. 

If you’re a Jack, I want to teach you to be strong yet also tender. I want you to have empathy for others and to not be a good but great man. I want you to disregard the simplicity of male stereotypes, what a man is “supposed” to be, and embrace who you are designed to be: the individual encompassing succinct yet undefinable layers. Open the door for women. Learn to cook. Listen to your heart, but also consider your mind.  I want you to work hard and accomplish anything and everything you can. I want you to be confident in whom you are; there will be times you will be tested. Knowing your true self is vital in times like these. Buy flowers for your future wife. Learn the art of Eskimo kissing. Don’t be afraid to stand up for your beliefs. I want you to read the best bedtime stories to your children.  I want to dance with you at your wedding. I want to grow old knowing you are happy, knowing I gave all my strength into being the best mother I could be. I miss you so much, and it’s only been a few days.

If you’re an Amelia, I want similar things for you. Rise above the female stereotypes of the world. I wish for you to never feel small. Brains are even more important than beauty, and a woman’s self-worth is not measured by who she is dating, but who she is.  I want you to be fierce; you must be fierce because if you’re not the world is a troubling place. It can be disheartening. I want you to be nurturing and warm. Love others. Accept others. Flaws make for interesting dinner party conversation. I hope for you to have grace and passion, to follow your convictions. Marry a man who cherishes and honors you, knowing you complete one another. Explore your dreams and make choices that affect your future in the brightest of ways. Dance and sing. Play instruments. Never look down on those who are less fortunate than you. I wish for you to speak eloquently and to have self-assurance. It’s okay to cry and need someone. I want everything good for you – it is selfish to want so much, true, but you deserve it. 

Although you are gone, this is not goodbye. I can never forget you. I feel saddened that I will never be able to hold you. I feel such heartbreak knowing very few people know you are part of this world. I am having an incredibly hard time coming to terms with that simple fact that you have been stolen from my body. Our family will always miss you because you’re the missing piece.  You will always be our second child. 

Despite such, you are buried in my heart. I am holding you here. I refuse to let nature be the keeper of you, and as your mother, I will fight to reclaim whatever aspects of you I can. Though not physically, you will remain with me. The hopes, wishes, dreams, and love I have for you cannot be taken away. It’s here you’re remembered. There are going to be times I need you so much. It’s going to hurt like hell. Even in this moment, I ache for you, my arms begging to hold you, my womb desperate to feel you kicking and present. 

I am trying to be strong because Emma and Daddy need me. They need me as much as I need them. I am stuck in a gutting wrenching place: as your mother, I want to stay in the moment, remembering the short time I had with you. I know I cannot stay here, paralyzed in grief.  Please forgive me. I will write again soon.

Thinking of you.