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  • Polly Thompson

One month on...I miss you so much



Dear Baby,


I’m sorry that I didn't write sooner, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t face having to put down in words that you are not here, that I am not 15 weeks pregnant, beginning to show and proudly telling everyone about the wonder that will be you.


Instead of glowing and being celebrated, I am lost in a world of pain and disbelief. How on earth did this happen? How did we go from nearly 12 weeks, nearly there to…nothing.


I am torn up inside. I actually find it hard to breath sometimes. It feels like I’ve been winded, punched in the guts. I can’t think why and then I remember. I remember the wonderful feeling of having a secret, of carrying around a tiny little gem inside me and no one knowing. I would lie on our bed and dream of what you would look like. Would you have blond hair like me, a turned up nose or a straight Roman like your Dad’s? What would your first word be? When would I go on maternity leave? You were due in the summer and I imagined us lying outside in the garden on a rug with you kicking your legs in the air and gazing up at the sky. It was such a brilliant dream but none of that is going to happen. I am still here, but I am empty without you.


Your Dad and I have planned a holiday in the summer, around your due date. We are going to South America. We thought of it as grand gesture, something to be excited about, to make up for not being able to have you. People have said ‘Go on good holidays while you can’ so we’ve dutifully planned it, got excited and tried to count our blessings. But honestly it’s hard to be excited about something that feels so unbearably sad. I would much rather be exhausted from sleepless nights of looking after you than be sleeping in a 5 star hotel somewhere on the other side of the world. I just feel so devastated. How can a holiday possibly make up for not having you?


Telling work was more awful than I thought it would be. My boss said all the right things, gave me time off and didn’t breathe a word to anyone, but in the end I had to go back at some point. So after two weeks of licking my wounds at home I did. No one knew and that actually made it harder. Some people had noticed that I’d been off for a couple of weeks and wondered if I was better but I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want them to know that I wasn’t good enough to keep you. I don’t want to hear the platitudes: ‘at least it was early’ (actually I don’t think that 11 weeks and 4 days is that early, I’d know you for 3 months by then), ‘at least you know you can get pregnant’ ‘you’re young, you can try again’. None of that matters because none of that will bring back you and you are what I want.


I love you my sweet baby.


Your Mummy xxx


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You can find me on Instagram @the_miscarriage_therapist.


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