Letter To My Unborn Child

I didn't love you.

I know how crazy that sounds, but I just didn't love you.

I really wanted to.

I tried and I begged for God to let me love you,

But I just... didn't.

And I think that's why, for three months, I pretended like you didn't exist.

I didn't need a test to know that you were there.

I knew there was this... thing growing inside of me.

My swollen and aching breasts, missed periods, lack of appetite, and constant nausea were sure tell-tale signs.

Plus, a mother always knows.

How ironic. A mother.

That's what I could have been.

A mother

A mother

A mother

Even saying it a million times still sounds strange.

It sounds strange because the title just wasn't meant for me.

I'm nobody's mother.

Me?

A mother? A mummy??

I know that they say the next step after marriage is children, but I just couldn't do it.

I dealt with you all on my own for 3 months, and nobody even noticed.

Not even your father.

Not even your grandmother, or your aunties and uncles.

Nobody.

And that's why it was easy for me to let you go the way I did.

Yes, I did the drugs.

Yes, I treated you like a punching bag.

Yes, I did everything I could to get rid of you because I just didn't deserve you!

I didn't deserve a "bundle of joy"

A precious little thing

With tiny little cheeks

Brown like dark chocolate, just like your mummy and daddy.

No.

NO!

Don't do that to me you bastard!

I didn't want you,

I didn't love you!

I didn't!

I hated you!

You would have ruined my life because I wasn't made for this shit!

So don't you dare try and come into my head

With your tiny little fingers

And your

Tiny little toes.

And your silly, toothless smile

And your tiny button nose.

Don't even try it with me mister.

I wasn't ready for you.

And I know I cried when I saw the blood that day,

But don't you even for a second think that I was crying for you.

I was crying because the blood meant that my plan had worked

All the cocaine,

All the bruises on my belly,

All the cinnamon,

All the cheese...

The blood in my pants let me know that everything I did was not in vain.

It had worked.

And I was happy because this was what I wanted...

Right?

I wanted this, didn't I?

Stop!

Stop making me doubt myself.

How do you keep doing that??

I wanted it.

I know I wanted it.

And I'm happy.

I am happy.

I think.