Read This Tearjerking Letter From An Unwanted Baby To Mummy
"I’m so sorry Mummy if I have made you sad and unhappy. I don’t know what I have done wrong but if you just give me a few months, I promise I’ll make it up to you. Deep in my heart though, I have a feeling that I won’t get to see you – ever."
I remember the first day I heard your voice and sensed your touch. I was so tiny and you’d be surprised to know that I recognised you way back then. But I did, because you’re my mummy and I’m your baby girl… and we were meant to be together from day one.
I sensed your happiness and excitement, and I was happy too because I knew I was making you feel this way. I felt the warmth of your touch as you placed your hand on your tummy – it made me feel so loved and wanted.
As I grew, I was delighted to find out I had fingers and toes which I would wriggle in delight whenever you ate my favourite food. I turned somersaults of happiness when you sang my favourite song, or told me my favourite story.
I want to tell you, Mummy, I feel so safe and secure in my warm, dark home, filled with your love and the “whoosh, whoosh” sound of your heartbeat so close to me.
You know what my favourite game is? It’s playing with the long cord that connects me to you! It’s so much fun to try to tug on it and swim around it. I also sense love and warmth flowing through this cord, straight from you to me.
I love you Mummy. And because I love you so much, I want to stay with you forever. I want to see your pretty face for real in a few months and get real cuddles and kisses from you. I crave to look in your eyes for the first time and see the love I know that will be there.
But recently, I know you’ve been sad. I heard you crying and I heard Daddy’s voice, and then both of you used loud voices and you cried some more. I heard my name “Baby” being called out a lot.
That night, I heard you whisper “I’m so sorry, Baby. I’ll always love you” and you cried a lot before falling asleep. I don’t know if you felt it but I pushed against your hand that was on your tummy as hard as I could to tell you that I’m here for you and I love you.
But ever since you and Daddy used your loud voices at each other, I don’t feel the warmth of your touch anymore. I don’t hear your voice talking and singing to me. It makes me so sad and confused.
I’m so sorry Mummy if I have made you sad and unhappy. I don’t know what I have done wrong but if you just give me a few months, I promise I’ll make it up to you.
Deep in my heart though, I have a feeling that I won’t get to see you – ever.
I know you went somewhere yesterday because my favourite song came on the radio when you were driving to the place (but you quickly turned it off – why did you do that?). I know you spoke to someone who had a deep, quiet voice and you started crying again.
I heard you ask if it would hurt.
I heard you murmur “tomorrow, then?” to the person with the deep, quiet voice and he said “yes”.
Now it’s night-time and I’ve just got comfy in my favourite position in my warm, dark home. I want to feel happy like I used to, but all I feel is your sadness.
I’m so scared of tomorrow, Mummy. I don’t want to hurt, and I don’t want you to hurt either. I don’t want tomorrow to be my last day ever with you. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you, ever.
Will you protect me from the hurt? Will you give me another chance to make it up to you, whatever I did so wrong that you don’t want me anymore? I want you with all my being. You are my whole world, Mummy, and I don’t want my world to come crashing down tomorrow.
But if you really don’t want me anymore, I’ll try my best to understand, and hope that some day, I get to be with you again.
I just want to tell you today that I love you and I always will.
I hope tomorrow never comes.
"A letter to my husband, the father of my child": A mum's appreciation for her husband
Eliminate your post-pregnancy stretch marks today!
Rainie Yang's 'Forced Separation' From Husband Li Ronghao Drags to 6 Months, Posts This Joke to Him
No Regrets Not Having a Father: Eleanor Lee Has Almost No Memories of Peter Yu