In the early days of my grief, I started to read a book called Saying Goodbye. It’s a 90-day support guide to walk you through baby loss and grief. On Day 11, the task of the day was to write a letter to the baby you lost. When I read that, I thought it was crazy. I could not imagine what I could write. She was gone. What else was there? She’d never read it, she’d never grow up, she’d never know. And I barely knew her. But the more I thought about it, the more all of those reasons seemed like reasons I needed to write the letter. I sat with it for a few months. More and more thoughts came to mind. I thought of memories of her, memories of us, memories of happy times. Sometimes, I feel that since I know the end of the story, it negates all of the pages before. But as I struggled to try to remember the days of hopes and dreams, I realized that there were times of happiness. I didn’t want to forget them. In June, I started to write.
Today, in honor of Maliyah’s first birthday, I want to remember the happy and hopeful times. Since I never posted on my blog about those exciting moments, I am going to share my letter.
Dear Maliyah,
I have so many things to say. I have a lifetime of things that I will never get to say to you while you’re physically with me. A lifetime of memories, both the ones I had before you, the ones I had with you, and the years of memories I will have after, but that you will always be a part of. I like to think you’ll hear/read/see this somehow, wherever you are, hanging out with all of your friends, hopefully having a lot more fun than we are in your absence.
Usually, in a eulogy, people talk about their memories they have of the person who died. When I first sat down to write this, I thought I had none. You never existed on your own, you were always part of me. But then I realized, I actually am fortunate, because I have every single memory you have. We were one. My memories of you are your memories too. For every second you existed, you and I were together. While I wish you grew up and had your own life and memories of your own, experiences, friendships, romantic partners, you will never have those things.
But during the time we were together, we had a lot of great memories. You were a world traveler. Your first place you visited was Sweden. I had no idea you were with me then, but your dad decided to be spontaneous and book a trip for the weekend. We ate meatballs and learned about the Nobel Prize. We saw Viking ships together, and danced and sang in the ABBA museum. The number one review of the ABBA museum said not to go alone, but I didn’t care, I went anyway. I thought I was there alone, but it turns out I wasn’t.
A few weeks later, after I knew you and I were on this ride together, we went to Australia. Together, we saw koalas and wild kangaroos, we watched as wombats came out at dusk. We saw the Sydney Opera House. We walked over the Sydney Harbor Bridge. We jumped out of a plane together. I wonder what you thought of that. Were you as nervous as me? Did you laugh when our tandem diver asked if we would have a beer after? I did. But you were still my little secret then, so I chuckled to myself. We were partners in crime. Together, we saw the Great Barrier Reef, one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. I remember feeling like I was The Little Mermaid, truly part of the ocean world. I wonder now if that’s how you felt about me, part of my world. Did you know that you would be part of my world forever?
We went all over the United States together too. We were in Los Angeles, we were in St. Louis, we were in Philadelphia, we were in Atlanta, and we were in Fort Lauderdale. You met coworkers, friends, family, and so many strangers. In all of those new places, I wondered if you would be friendly and extroverted like me, or thoughtful and intellectual like your dad.
At first, you were my little secret. I sent a photo of the pregnancy test to my friend. Those two lines were the first proof I had of your existence. But even before that, I had a feeling. I knew something was different and that’s why I took the test. Something changed in me, and I knew it would be changed forever. People say that when you are pregnant, your DNA makeup literally changes. I know my spirit has definitely changed, and maybe my physical composition has, too.
Slowly, I started telling people about you. I had more partners in crime, a friend who drank my wine at a birthday dinner so people wouldn’t notice. She ordered us a gin and tonic (hold the gin) during the Halloween pub crawl. Most of my friends had no idea you were hanging out with us during all of the important events of the fall. You were there at Halloween, while we watched the marathon, at the Macy’s Parade, during Christmas. I am usually a pretty good secret-keeper, but it was SO hard keeping you a secret.
I took pictures of us, but I didn’t post them. You and I had our own little world no one knew about. At the Macy’s Parade, there was a first-time balloon of a dinosaur and their kid little dinosaur. I had my sister take a picture of me and you, with the family of dinosaurs behind us. We took pictures at Christmas where your dad and I tried to make a heart at my belly. Right where you were. We were so excited for the next year to add a third to our matching pajamas tradition. I remember on Christmas Day I sat at the table and ordered us matching sets for 2024. And then at my friend’s wedding in Florida, when my best friend was pregnant too, I took a picture of the four of us. It would be the only time we all got to meet.
I wish I had real or mental pictures of you growing up and meeting and playing with my friends, laughing at their funny faces when you were a baby, or laughing at our old clubbing stories and rolling your eyes at us when you were a teenager and far too cool for us. The only memories I have of you and my friends are when they found out about you. I remember their excitement. I remember how they said they couldn’t wait to meet you. They bought you gifts and checked in on me (and you) often. I remember them thinking about how you would look and act, a combination of your dad’s big eyes, and my super tall self. I remember them joking about how some kids are no-screen kids, but you’d be an all-screen kid with a baby iPad because your dad lovesss his electronics so much.
I remember hating women who used to touch their bellies all the time, but it was so exciting to know you were in there. I refused to be “one of those people” in public, but I remember always feeling my stomach in the shower, making sure you were still safe in there, happy to be with your mom. I remember when I started to feel your kicks. It was really late in the pregnancy, and my doctor told me it was because of how you were positioned in my body. I only felt you moving around for a couple of short weeks. In hindsight, I think it was you protecting my heart. You knew that if I felt your presence for too long, it would be even more difficult to let go. I remember laying in bed at night feeling you dancing around, and putting my hand on my stomach to see if I could feel you from the outside and show your dad. Unfortunately, I never could. He never could. That used to make me sad, but now I prefer to think of you knowing, protecting his heart, helping him heal for the future. He never knew what he was missing.
Speaking of your dad, I remember the day I broke the news to him that you existed. It was his birthday. He loves when I write him little poems, and I used to write them all the time when we first were dating. I thought a perfect full-circle moment would be to write him a poem to tell him about you. I remember sitting across from him at dinner as he read the card. At first, he was confused, and then he was so excited that he cried. I remember him saying you were the greatest birthday present he could ever receive in his life. I remember the big hug he gave us. You should know your dad does not show emotion often, and definitely not in public. But your existence brought him to tears right there in the restaurant. Even while you were in my body, you had that huge power. You will always be that to me, the best gift ever.
I wish I could explain to the world how special you are. I wish I could tell them your favorite books, your favorite foods, your likes and dislikes. I wish I knew. The only thing I know is that you were in the safest place your whole existence. I was recently reading a text where someone signed it ILY. I Love You. I realized those letters are in both your name and my name. It was unintentional, but now that I know, it feels intentional. You had no enemies. Everyone who knew you, loved you. They loved the idea of you, they loved their hopes for you, and they will love you forever. Especially me.
Love,
Your mom
