For three months I lay here, evolving, developing organs that would allow me to be aware that I existed.
The airy sound of life under water, the humming of your cry and sometimes incessant laughter, makes me want to be with you more. You may forget me, but I know that you are there, always, here with me.
I want to join you physically and remove your desire to cry. Remove the pain and turmoil that drive you into a corner alone to cry. I want to lie in your arms and smell the moist of your skin, feel the peach of its texture. Glare into your eyes informing you of the love I have for you.
I hope to give you the drive you need to do, be better at the things you love, and be rid of those things you hate. Even if you lack the awareness of the hate, all you feel is the rotten-underbelly of the hate that eats you up inside. I want to inspire you. I want to obsessively love you through my dependence upon you, the smile in my eyes and my tilted lips that plump the cheeks of my face informing you of my happiness. Because I am with you. I need you. I want to love you so deeply I in turn show you how to love.
Please allow me to do these things for you. Please allow me the time so I can physically be with you. Please return to your conscious state and have them remove these forceps from my tiny feet. I’m not ready to leave you. I haven’t been given the chance to love you, mend you and redeem you of your feelings toward me. I can take away your pain. I can give you a reason to want me, keep me, mother me, love me. I just need you to give me a chance.
Please remember I existed.
With love, your unborn child.
© Monique Dixon 2014