Letters to

Ain’t nothing like you

Another month gone by and the deep red of the blood mocks me. Time is slipping by, it says, and you are getting further from your dream.

The brutal pain in my abdomen, it laughs at my misery. It reminds me that yet again, we have failed to create the baby that I so desperately want. It lashes out at my hope, my wish, my desire and my deepest regret that this is a dream unshared.

I didn’t cry this time, I think I am getting numb to this pain. Besides, what is the point of tears? It only makes things awkward and uncomfortable. We talk, we say things, but in the end, we achieve nothing. We are still standing at where we started out. We hug, we kiss and then it all vaporizes into thin air. We turn and we go to sleep in our individual corners. He will never understand just how deeply I feel, and how deeply I hurt.


My child, my yet to be born child, I don’t know where you are. I don’t know you and already I miss you so much. I want you to be born out of the greatest love and sweetest desire. But above all, know that you are never far from my thoughts and my love.

I just wished you would hurry to my side.

One day, I will play you this song and you will understand just how much you are wanted and loved. And how wonderful your mommy’s taste in music is (this is a Bob Dylan song, by the way).

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