Dear Baby

ATTENTION READERS: I would like to start this story with a small note. In my description, I suggested using caution when letting young children read. Please readers, as a mother of a young teenage girl, I urge all of you to do what you can to help other young girls, and boys as well, to avoid these feelings associated with this type of situation. Thank you very much for taking the time to love your children more than anything this world has to offer.
Sincerely,
Aryana edited 11/16/06 for name change




Dear Baby,
I am writing this letter to explain to you how it came to be that you are not here today. I hope you can understand and someday forgive my sin.

Your father and I had a whirlwind summer romance. I was 15 at the time and totally, beyond a doubt, in love. The only problem between us was your daddy didn't love me the way I thought he did. I found out that fact when I found out that you were on your way.

The chill winds of winter that year brought with them the most heartbreaking moments of my life. I knew that I was "late", and I was terrified that your grandma would find out. I also knew that I needed help, so I went to your daddy. He agreed to go to the doctor with me the next day. He told me not to worry, that he would take care of us. I was somewhat relieved, but still apprehensive.

The next day, I went to his apartment before my doctors appointment, and your daddy was gone. Everything he owned, even the trash in the trash can was gone. Standing in that doorway, looking at that empty apartment, I could hear my heartbreak. I had never felt so alone in my whole life. Right then was when the physical pain started.

I wanted to cry, but the heart-wrenching sob stayed locked in my chest, sitting on my heart like the weight of the world. My heart wasn't just breaking, it was being pulverized into a million pieces. I felt every one of those pieces like they were shards of glass floating in my blood stream. My head started to pound, and my stomach dropped to my knees as they buckled under me. Then, just as I had heard my heart break, I heard you.

I heard your first cry, your first laugh and your first word. I saw your ten perfect little fingers and your ten perfect little toes, your wisps of fine blond hair and your big green eyes. I was holding you to my breast singing a lullaby, then I was patching a scraped knee. Your first love broke my heart as much as it did yours, and I cried as you walked down the aisle, swimming in white lace and satin. I saw, heard, and felt all these things in a matter of thirty seconds, and realized that I had to keep you, no matter what the consequences.

When I finally told your grandma, she wasn't angry with me, or so I thought. But she was upset that I went against the basic morals and values that she had always tried to instill in me. She made a point of telling me that I was only a child myself, that there was no way she, as a single mother of three, could afford to help me raise a child. Then came the choice: I could have you and give you up for adoption, or I could have an abortion. But I could not keep you. Then she told me to think about my decision for a few days, but "don't take too long, or it will become too late to have anything done!"

I spent three nights crying, my heart being crushed more and more. I wanted to have a teenage life to remember, but I wanted you to be there with me. I knew that wasn't possible; and I knew that I couldn't give birth to you and just turn you over to some stranger. I had only one choice. I will always believe that that choice was made for me, and that I was left with no other way out.

On the morning of the procedure, your grandma bundled me into the car and told everyone that we were going to spend the day together at the mall. How she lied about that day I will never understand. The trip to the doctor's office was the only living nightmare I thought I would ever experience; until we got inside.

The nurse called my name and led me to a small cubicle. She handed me a paper gown that I was to change into right away. After I had changed, she led me to a small day surgery room. The room was very bright and sterile; and also very cold. I can remember becoming even colder when I noticed the instruments on the table, and the bucket on the floor. I tried to get up the courage to leave, but I couldn't move. The nurse had to help me get up on the table.

I started to cry when they put the I.V. in my arm. I knew that it was too late to turn back the hands of time. The nurse told me to relax and I would be asleep shortly. I never even saw the doctor. But I remember feeling a sensation while I was "asleep", like someone was tearing my insides to shreds. That feeling tore my heart to shreds because I knew even then, half asleep, that you were gone.

I awoke a while later, crying out for you, dying inside and begging forgiveness from you, and from God. Even in my prayers today, 12 years later, I ask God for forgiveness, for taking your life, and for letting someone else make that decision for me.

Dear baby, please understand that I always wanted you, in my heart and in my soul. Please forgive me, so that I may at last live in peace with myself.

Love,
Mommy