You Were My First

Dear, my unborn child that I will never get to meet...

There is so much I want to say and tell you, but you're not here to greet me. I was scared when I was pregnant with you, more than anything. I had never been so scared in my entire life.

I wish I could say good things about your father but I cannot...He would not be around because I would have never told him, that's because I was not his anymore.

My mom that would have been your grandma told me once that she wishes she could have been a single mother. I agree with that. I would have taken that path, within a heartbeat...

I'm sorry you're not here, in this world, but God had a different plan for you, a very different plan. I feel guilty for losing you so quickly and easily. Your almost dad never knew you were even here, growing inside me quietly and slowly. I regret not telling him at first, but I accept my decision now.

I would have loved you with all my heart and held you close, tight, to my heart without a moment's notice because you would have been mine.

You were my first miscarriage and he'll never know...because I will never tell him, but my future children will know that you existed.

I promise that, my dear...and even though you're not here in my lap or hands. I had a strong feeling you were a boy, a beautiful, chocolate, curly-haired baby. I dreamed you had curly black hair (a full head of hair), brown beautiful eyes you could fall in love with one glance, the tiniest lips, and hands.

I dreamt you were wrapped in a white towel and you were handed to me. The dream was so vivid and lively. I know you're not here, and maybe that dream was nonsense.

I know now if it was just you and I...I would have named you something beautiful. I would have named you;

Raza Neo Diaz Villanueva because Raza means hope and Neo also means my little hope.

I would have loved you more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life...I do not know if I'll ever be able to have kids again, but I hope one day. I wish I could hold your tiny finger in mine and caress each curly hair I dreamed of.

You were my unborn child, who was my hope.

You were a life I would have created from my body.

I will never forget the day I lost you...it was traumatic but I do not regret having you inside me growing. I was alone with cramps I could not control that hurt more than anything. I could have ever imagined.

It was just you and I. My hands and legs were covered, and I mean covered in blood, like I was a part of a horror film. Yet, there was you...

In my hands the simple, tiny clot, that I could barely stare at or believe...=

So, I acted like it did not happen, but you, however, will forever be my

"Dear unborn Raza Neo Diaz Villanueva"

You did not exist,

I am so sorry...for keeping you a secret.

I love you.

A piece of art called 'The Miscarriage'

Poem: Fault

I carry my blood

like fruits in wicker

baskets, down

Godless corridors.

Hold me on a cross

with rope and twine,

thorns for pleasure

with blood for a

bottle of pills.

Fairies meet

me with napkins

for tears,

hugs for the dead

baby toy I used

too carry.

A piece of bread

for substance,

lies in every sweet

you eat..

Swimming in worn

out pools and tropical

lips singing its not

your fault.

Yet, I am still a sinner

as I used to play and carry

my fault in a dead baby

doll.

I look in the mirror

to something so clearly,

that is rather dead,

so why am I still

chocking on his sins?