A Letter To My Yet-To-Be Conceived Baby

To my yet-to-be-conceived baby (yes, I flipped back and forth with what I wanted to refer to you as),

I have been praying for the day that we would begin trying to conceive you for years. The day that I moved 1,100 miles away from my family in Bartlett, Tennessee to be with your daddy in New York City, my journey to meeting you began. It’s been almost five months, and you’ve yet to enter our lives via two pink lines on a stick. I’m told that I should relax. That I should be patient. That I should stop trying, and that’s when you’ll burrow your precious self into my womb.

How can I stop trying for someone that I’ve longed for for so long? 



Over the Christmas break, I expressed to your Nana why trying to conceive you is so trying. It is way more than just having sex during certain days of the month. Every time that my period arrives, I feel like I’m mourning the loss of my baby…that didn’t even exist. 

I mourned for you in October…in November…in December…and in January. 



Your active journey into this world began on June 26th, 2015. I wanted my Paragard IUD out so I could get pregnant. My doctor tried and tried, and despite the enormous amount of pain, the removal of the barrier between you and I was unsuccessful. The IUD was embedded into my cervix. I needed surgery. 

On July 20th, I underwent a hysteroscopy, an outpatient procedure that takes anywhere between 5 to 30 minutes. It was the first time I was put under general anesthesia. I was so scared. However, the thought of never holding you in my arms was infinitely scarier. 

Surgery was semi-successful. My doctor was able to remove the IUD, but one of the strings was still stuck in my cervix. She told me that if she had tried to remove it, that it could interfere with my fertility. My heart skipped a beat. I wish I had never gotten that form of birth control. 



Fast forward to today, and I am waiting to ovulate for my fifth cycle trying to conceive you. I pray each and every day that this will be the month that I get to celebrate your impending arrival. I crave that baby scent. I desire that touch of skin that feels like clouds. 

Your sister also cannot wait til you enter our lives. She has been expressing how much she wants a little sister or a little brother. She practices being a caring sister to twin dolls that she got for Christmas from Santa Claus. She often tells me that there’s a baby in my tummy, and I wish that I could smile and tell her that she’s right. I have yet to have that opportunity, and it crushes me. 



I look forward to gasping at the sight of a positive pregnancy test (aka a BFP or Big Fat Positive).

I look forward to potentially hovering over a toilet for days on end (I say potentially because I was lucky enough to not have to endure morning sickness with your sister).

I look forward to the stretch marks.

I look forward to discovering whether I’ll have another beautiful daughter or my first handsome son. 

I look forward to your anatomy scan and praying with all my might that you are completely healthy.

Hell, I even look forward to the glucose test!

I look forward to decorating your side of the room.

I look forward to choosing the right doula for me.

I look forward to the child birth classes that I’ll attend with your daddy. I didn’t take them when I was pregnant with your sister, and I believe it would have given me the tools to manage my pain more naturally.

I look forward to Braxton-Hicks contractions.

I look forward to swollen feet.

I look forward to embarking on my first all-natural birth at a birthing center that I’ve had my eye on.

I look forward to the ring of fire, and feeling what my body is capable of doing.

I look forward to witnessing you rise from your home of nine months onto my chest where I will exclaim to the world my undying love for you. I look forward to crying. I look forward to holding you without the slightest urge to let you go. 

You are so wanted. You are so NEEDED. I would be honored and blessed to be your mother. 

Please give me that opportunity. Please let this cycle be it. 



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