You Were My First
'A miscarriage is a natural and common event. All told, probably more women have lost a child from this world than haven’t. Most don’t mention it, and they go on from day to day as if it hadn’t happened, so people imagine that a woman in this situation never really knew or loved what she had. But ask her sometime: how old would your child be now? And she’ll know.' — Barbara Kingsolver
Dear, my unborn child that I will never get to meet...
There is so much I want to say and tell you, but you're not here to greet me. I was scared when I was pregnant with you, more than anything. I had never been so scared in my entire life.
I wish I could say good things about your father but I cannot...He would not be around because I would have never told him, that's because I was not his anymore.
My mom that would have been your grandma told me once that she wishes she could have been a single mother. I agree with that. I would have taken that path, within a heartbeat...
I'm sorry you're not here, in this world, but God had a different plan for you, a very different plan. I feel guilty for losing you so quickly and easily. Your almost dad never knew you were even here, growing inside me quietly and slowly. I regret not telling him at first, but I accept my decision now.
I would have loved you with all my heart and held you close, tight, to my heart without a moment's notice because you would have been mine.
You were my first miscarriage and he'll never know...because I will never tell him, but my future children will know that you existed.
I promise that, my dear...and even though you're not here in my lap or hands. I had a strong feeling you were a boy, a beautiful, chocolate, curly-haired baby. I dreamed you had curly black hair (a full head of hair), brown beautiful eyes you could fall in love with one glance, the tiniest lips, and hands.
I dreamt you were wrapped in a white towel and you were handed to me. The dream was so vivid and lively. I know you're not here, and maybe that dream was nonsense.
I know now if it was just you and I...I would have named you something beautiful. I would have named you;
Raza Neo Diaz Villanueva because Raza means hope and Neo also means my little hope.
I would have loved you more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life...I do not know if I'll ever be able to have kids again, but I hope one day. I wish I could hold your tiny finger in mine and caress each curly hair I dreamed of.
You were my unborn child, who was my hope.
You were a life I would have created from my body.
I will never forget the day I lost you...it was traumatic but I do not regret having you inside me growing. I was alone with cramps I could not control that hurt more than anything. I could have ever imagined.
It was just you and I. My hands and legs were covered, and I mean covered in blood, like I was a part of a horror film. Yet, there was you...
In my hands the simple, tiny clot, that I could barely stare at or believe...=
So, I acted like it did not happen, but you, however, will forever be my
"Dear unborn Raza Neo Diaz Villanueva"
You did not exist,
I am so sorry...for keeping you a secret.
I love you.
A piece of art called 'The Miscarriage'
Poem: Fault
I carry my blood
like fruits in wicker
baskets, down
Godless corridors.
Hold me on a cross
with rope and twine,
thorns for pleasure
with blood for a
bottle of pills.
Fairies meet
me with napkins
for tears,
hugs for the dead
baby toy I used
too carry.
A piece of bread
for substance,
lies in every sweet
you eat..
Swimming in worn
out pools and tropical
lips singing its not
your fault.
Yet, I am still a sinner
as I used to play and carry
my fault in a dead baby
doll.
I look in the mirror
to something so clearly,
that is rather dead,
so why am I still
chocking on his sins?
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