Dear Baby,
The last time I wrote to you it felt like a betrayal. I told you I loved you. That I would never stop loving you. But I needed to stop carrying you with me. My arms weary from the grief I held. My heart broken from the loss of hope. It had become too much. I could no longer sit with you in the dark. As I confessed this to you, the remaining fragment of my heart broke. What kind of Mother was I?
I remember the exact moment that I realised we were likely to never meet. The very idea of it made me sick. The pain simply too much to contain in my body. So how could it be that I would find myself, years later, trying to explain to you that I had to move on. That I could no longer live in the darkness. That I had to try and find the light in life again. Light! It seemed almost comical.
In the early days I tried to prove a childless life was ok. I dabbled with the stereotypes. Maybe I’d be a career woman? Someone had called me this once. I remember being dumbfounded. I was a woman with a job, that’s all. I certainly didn’t identify as a career woman. But maybe this could work. Maybe this could be my new identity. Maybe this could be what would give me status. Status that I had failed to achieve as a Mother. I tried the career woman stereotype on for size, but it didn’t fit. How about the adventurous traveller? That sounded like fun. That could give me something to show for my life, right? It was fun. It did give me something to show for my life. I did receive envious comments. I did enjoy it. But I wasn’t truly doing it for myself. When I thought long and hard, I realised I was doing it to show the world that yes, I was childless, but that I was also ok.
What I’m coming to understand is the power of authenticity. I don’t have to be anyone for anybody. I can be who I want to be, for me. I’m ok and I’m worthy just as I am. What a valuable lesson to have learnt. Thank you. Coming out of the darkness I’ve had to re-learn what makes me happy. It’s a process of experimentation and discovery with a healthy dose of failure thrown in for good measure. I’m learning the precious lesson that it’s the small things in life that bring joy. The sound of birdsong, the way the light reflects off the water, the way my cat taps my arm when he wants affection. And I’ve learnt to feel the fear but do it anyway in daring to dream again. Who would have thought it? Having hope back in my life.
Thanks to you I’ve also learnt to Mother. I’ve learnt that Mother is a verb and not a noun. Without the pain of your loss I would never have learnt self-compassion. I would never have learnt to take stock of that scared little girl inside of me. I would never have learnt to soothe her with kind words. I would never have learnt to love her. Just like I would have done for you. Thank you for allowing me to become a Mother.
So dear baby, I no longer carry you in my weary arms. I no longer sit in the darkness with you. But you’re still with me. You’re with me as I let the light in. You’re with me as I have new experiences. You’re with me as I learn new things. You’re with me on my journeys. You’re with me as I dream and hope. This was not my chosen path, but you’re with me as I explore the alternative routes.
Dear baby. You are loved. You are remembered. You are the light.
All my love forever and always,
Mummy