A Letter To My Unborn Children
Tiffany Moore
It has not been for lack of wanting, nor trying for that matter, that you have not come earthside. Life can be hard here, even when I’m doing my best, thriving, and have been given so many reasons to be grateful. I have endless questions as to why things happen the way they do, and why things don’t, and I’m praying for peace in never finding the answers. I’m sure you little angel babies might have more insight into this than I do! Please know I love you and will always hold a place for you inside my heart.
Maryn Rose
You were to be named after the sea and your great grandmother, Cecile Rose, who we lost too soon and who was revered as a saint through my eyes as a child. I am still unsure if you ever grew inside my body or not, but I have had such vivid dreams of you it doesn’t matter, you existed to me. You were to be born at a time when I was young, and in love, and had my first real bad case of baby fever. I was working with babies and was realizing how much I wanted to be a mother, and how good at it I could be. I longed to bring you into my arms for over a decade, sometimes so desperately that I settled for less than I should have, for longer than I should have. There were so many struggles during this time in my life, some a result of the choices I made and some so unfair and excruciatingly painful, like the loss of my own mother. It was a couple nights after she passed, when my prayers to God were so raw and muddled, I even tried to conceive you in my mother’s death bed— a place in between coherence and insanity— where I longed to be near her again, and hope and heartache collided. My pleading for her spirit to guide yours inside me rang in a dull, cold void. I felt she had abandoned me, as well as God, and I knew then that I was in for a very dark time. I’m sorry, but I think you know that I wasn’t capable of becoming a mother then, caring for myself and trying to keep my marriage together was hard enough.
A handful of years later, you came to visit me in a dream after I left the man who was to be your father. I was breastfeeding you in the dark, rocking slowly back and forth through the night. I felt so happy to finally be holding you and you felt so real in my arms. When I startled awake, your suckling so real on my flesh, I reached out for you but you were already gone. A fresh wave of grief would have taken me to my knees had I not been lying in bed. I wept for you and all the dreams I was giving up by leaving. I raged for days in anger at how unfair this life could be. Why couldn’t I have the one thing I ever wanted— you? I see now what a gift this dream was; I was able to meet you, feel my love for you, and started the process of letting go of what could have been in order to move into what could be created in the future.
Oliver Glen
You were to be named after your grandfather, Norman Oliver, and great grandfather, Glen. They both showed me that strong, hardworking men also have the capacity to show love in the most tender and playful of ways. You were to be born at a time when I finally came around to the idea of someday mothering a son. I had always leaned toward having a girl since I connected to them more, and was one myself. I had also helped to raise twin girl cousins, and four younger sisters. It wasn’t until the birth of my godson and first two nephews that I saw how wonderful being a boy mom could be. Raising incredible young men is so important, I would have been honored to bring you into the world!
Odin & Freyja
You were to be named after the Norse god and goddess by your Celtic father. One boy, one girl— the best of both worlds. You’d always have a friend to play with and your parents would only be pregnant and paying for medical expenses once. You were to be born to us as older parents in our late 30’s, after finding each other after our divorces and unexpectedly falling in love. We were newly married and talking about growing our family. We started joking about having twins because we both have twins in our family history and then I started finding double yolks in eggs. They showed up in multiple cartons, all different brands, from various stores. Your father half joked that once the first positive pregnancy test showed up he’d put me on the next plane to Ireland in order to avoid the huge medical expenses in the US. You would have been born with awesome triple citizenship of England, Ireland, and the US and I had fancy visions of us traveling around Europe on holidays, showing you the world.
We tried to conceive you for a few years, but unfortunately age, hormonal challenges, reproductive issues, and finances made it harder for us. We were turned away from one clinic in order to keep their success rate high but were eventually referred to another. We entered into a bittersweet time that was ladened with bloodwork, ultrasounds, hormones, fertility medications, and multiple tests for both of us. All failed without a positive result. We sadly agreed that, due to financial restraints, alternative fertility treatments weren’t an option. And even though we wanted to have a family, in the end fostering wasn’t right for us and it seems adoption is a far-off dream.
Today, we find ourselves having crossed over the threshold into our 40’s and seriously considering what we want the next half of our lives to look like. We both agree that we are ready for more adventures and after a stressful year of planning and preparation, we are mere weeks away from embarking on a life-changing move to Ireland. We are embracing our childless life and excited to walk hand-in-hand into the future– together.