What Could’ve Been
This is a letter for the life I wasn’t able to create but grieve every month to meet
I dream of who you could’ve or would’ve been. Maybe you would’ve loved soccer, a sport I was never good at. Maybe you would’ve spun around every Sunday at dance class like your mom did when she was a young girl like you. Would you have played lacrosse like your dad? When you grew up would you stay around your hometown with us? Or spread your wings & go off on your own like your parents did? It surprised everyone but mom came back.
I promise to give you the world. A world where you feel safe, loved & the freedom to be a kid. Your dad is such a good dad, a dad that loves having that title and will give you the best childhood. Your brother changes 3x a day at least because of the mud or water he finds, although it can be a hassle I love how much joy it brings to him.
Most importantly, would you have been kind? Would you have made us laugh so hard with your ridiculous jokes you heard from your Papa Jensen or Papa Boone? Would you have shown us how adventurous you were about the world like your brother Aspen (while painting your parents heads with grey from worry?) Would you have had red, wavy hair? Or be a blondie to match your big brother?
I promise you that I tried. We will still try in every way to meet you. The appointments and 1.5 hour drives to the clinic are for the chance/s to meet you. The medication that makes me question who I am are for you. The constant worry if I’m doing everything in my power to meet you is for you. The talks to God asking why & how long is the wait is for you.
When I feel like giving up this infertility journey because of the pain from this disease, I think about the “one more try” & the possibility of you coming out of that try.
Yes, this is a type of grief that is hard to explain until you’ve been in it. It’s a grief of shedding dreams on a continuous, heartbreaking cycle every 28-32 days. The hole is dark the first couple days but the strength to climb out after is the thing that anchors you to keep going.
My heart is ready for you so why is my body fighting so hard against it?
I cry for you. I long for you. I love you for whoever you are.
I share a lot about my infertility journey on TikTok- if you’d like to follow it is @megsamillion1230. In no way am I doing this for views, I could care less about that. I share my vulnerable side of this for myself as an outlet and for others who feel so alone during this. It’s been such an amazing community of support & love that I’ve been apart of so far. It’s not a fun club to add to the resume but I’m happy to know that others are rooting for you (whether you know them in real life or not.)
My inbox is open (in any form) if you ever need to talk or meet up. Somedays I want nothing to do with talking about it and that is a way of keeping my peace. If it takes me a couple days to respond to you just know I am getting myself to a place where I can give you all of my love.