In the run up to World Childless Week I carried out a survey in our childless community and over 500 people took part.

I asked if people would like to share the names of the children they never had, Our Unborn Children.

I think about you daily. You were my one shot at children, and I let you down badly. When I think about the photo I have of you – the scan from seven weeks, I often think about your little heart beating away. I saw your heart and knew that regardless of what happened I would always hold you in a special place in mine – untouched by anyone else.

I like to dream, sweet child.

I’ve caught glimpses of my concept of you many times over the years, but there was one time I felt so certain it was you.

You would be about 32 years old now if I had been blessed.

Letter to my unadopted child:

You're probably out there somewhere, and I hope you've been adopted by a lovely family and that everything is going so well for you. It's strange to think that you could be living with me now, that you'd be taking my surname, that I'd be your forever Mummy.

I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to be born and carry on the family line, but it wasn’t my fault. I wanted you, we wanted you very badly. You might have had your dad’s curly thick hair and his cute smile. Or slightly neurotic and scatter brain like me.

This poem’s for you, our children,
For you are the meaning of life,
From the day of your conception,
To the smiles of your Midwife.

I had big dreams for you both!  We dreamed about what your lives could have been like…

A Year of Medical Thinking is a memoir exploring baby loss and the impact of a potentially life threatening illness.

So you were the baby on the backseat and we said goodbye.

I’ve imagined these names written this letter so many times in my head and on paper. The content changes a bit each time as the seasons change, along with the years. I’m finally ready to tell you a few things now.

What I would give for just one day with you. To tell you how much I love you. How wanted you were and still are. Throughout my life I always thought that I’d meet your father at a coffee shop of course we would be discussing books. I hope that I passed down a love reading to you. To me, it doesn’t matter what you read classics to comic books.

“I am sorry that we were never able to meet in person….and because I was never able to get pregnant, we were never able to meet at all. But we met in my heart and my mind.”

I don't even know where to start. We had so many plans for our life with you. I wanted to fill your life with adventure, challenge, and knowledge. I wanted you so busy enjoying life you could never be unhappy. 

I never wanted anything as bad as I wanted to be your mom. To feel you grow inside me, to be connected, and be able to see you later and say "I made that!" 

Darling one,

There are no words

I can’t help thinking that you would be a girl. I’m one of seven girls, so I don’t know what it’s like to raise a boy. (Had you been a boy I would have been just as happy, just a tad surprised.)

When I came to write the introduction for Letters from Our Hearts: The Children We Never Had, Our Unborn Children I realised that the best thing to do would be to participate. I can’t ask you to share your deepest thoughts if I am not prepared to do the same. So here is my letter to my unborn children, and the very first time I have shared the names that I chose.