To our miracle baby,
I have lost track of the number of times I have written to you,
The number of times I have prayed for you and dreamt of you.
The number of times I have done everything right to welcome you,
All the rules about my health and that of your father’s,
All the religious rituals that might help.
I hope you know how much you’re longed for,
How much you’re making us wait.
How I’ve had a long list of baby names on my phone for years now.
The countless times I’ve tried to imagine what you might look like,
Dug up childhood photos of your father and me.
How we have wondered about what you might be interested in,
Secretly hoping you don’t turn out to be a Liverpool fan like him.
Collected all the hand-me-downs and our childhood toys,
Narrowed down a few nursery themes and sports you should learn.
We were ready for you long before we suspected anything,
Too many times I’ve expected your arrival,
So often I’ve read PMS signs as a ray of hope.
Only to be disappointed by my timely cycles,
Only to enter another month of uncertainty.
Months and months of the same disappointment
Led to a harsh reality check,
Followed by a routine of medical terms, fertility tests and hormone pills.
Each pill a reminder of my body betraying me,
Each test an embarrassment,
Each medical term taking your vision further away.
I tried so hard to not blame myself,
To not look in the mirror and see a childless woman.
I knew it wasn’t my fault,
I knew I couldn’t do much about it,
Yet it all made me question
If the universe was telling me I wasn’t good enough for you.
The more I became a case file,
The less I felt sacred enough to welcome you.
Every pregnancy test followed by small funerals no one saw,
Every funeral leaving me more hopeless than before.
Yet the world didn’t stop for our grief,
As I saw the new mothers celebrate their bodies and the beauty of creation,
Holding their very own little bundle of joy in their arms.
And here I was, being questioned and then pitied,
Given suggestions, advice and looks which were supposedly for my well-being.
As I returned home wrapping up the well-meant words after every gathering,
They turned into doubts about my body and my worth.
Destiny truly showed its irony
When your cousin was born,
When everything I was waiting for,
For years and almost a decade,
Beautifully unfolded for my newlywed sister.
Fate never seemed as cruel before,
My womb never felt as empty before,
Until I saw her baby bump.
What a joy it was to feel the kicks of the little one,
But how could I forget the hollowness of my body?
Later the cries and coos that filled her home,
Made returning to my silent home feel like a punishment.
What a bittersweet feeling it was to hold the new addition to our family,
Letting my hands memorize her little fingers,
Only to keep missing those fingers around mine throughout the day.
How magical it was to witness how she lit up her mother’s face
As she quieted down in her arms,
Only to be reminded that nothing came close to a mother’s touch.
Despite knowing all too well,
Despite the inexplicable affection I felt,
It often reminded me of my curse.
When all the love I felt for them
Appeared in twisted ways.
However, I never stopped waiting for you,
And I had to let her go.
But see, you already have a friend waiting!
So I hope you read this letter soon.
I hope you at least read this letter someday,
And show up, even if a little late.
