November 15, 2010
I have not written to you in a couple of weeks and I am so very sorry. Since the last time I wrote you, I had an ultrasound and you were doing really great. Your heartbeat was super strong. It sounded beautiful and tears just streamed down my face. Your heart was beating 176 beats per minute. The nurse said you looked perfect. I didn’t want the ultrasound to end. I loved seeing you and hearing your heartbeat. I have never felt such joy.
Today my heart is forever broken. You are still in my tummy but your beautiful little heart is still and silent. You are now in Heaven. I am devastated. I have never felt such intense pain or grief in my entire life. You were my miracle, my hope, my grace and my whole heart.
Mommy has so much more to say to you but I can’t find the words right now. I pray you are safe and in the arms of a sweet angel. Today is the saddest day of my life. They gave me your pictures today. You are so beautiful. I will carry you in my heart forever. You are my heart.
I love you forever,
November 15, 2011.
I am so very sad. Do you know how much I miss you and long for you? The pain I feel is beyond any I have ever known. I grieve you every passing second.
That horrible day plays over and over in my mind. I will never forget the nurse looking at me and saying that your heartbeat was gone. She shut off the machines and told me she was sorry. I was all alone. I sobbed and screamed out but there was no one listening. I had to get dressed and walk out into a waiting room filled with pregnant mothers that were waiting to see their babies. The nurse handed me your pictures and told me someone would come to get me. I was told that I could either have surgery that afternoon or go home and wait to deliver you on my own. I was in shock. I was alone. I was frightened. My Doctor told me that she recommended surgery. I nodded okay.
I fear the ultrasound was wrong. I feel in my heart it was. I have nightmares about it. What if you were still with me? I am so sorry my sweet baby. I wish I could go back to that day and change everything. I would give everything I own for you to still be with me. I am tormented by the constant thought that I killed you. Waking up from surgery and looking down at my blood soaked gown was horrific beyond words. The nurse said that I just cried for an hour saying, “my baby is dead”. I came home that night and laid in bed for a week. I felt truly dead.
I will love you for all eternity. My greatest prayer for the rest of my life will be that I get to hold you in Heaven one day. I pray you are safe and loved and know how much I love and miss you.
November 15, 2014.
Not a day goes by that you are not in my constant thoughts and in my heart. These last four years have been the worst of my life. I carry so much guilt and shame and my heart is so burdened with the secrets I carry. It is my fault that you died. I am so sorry that I could not protect you from him. I am sorry that I married him. I am sorry that he was your Father. I am sorry that I didn’t leave him before this happened. I am sorry I couldn’t break away from him. I fought him with every ounce of my strength. I begged him to stop. I screamed at the top of my lungs ” Please don’t hurt my baby” but he was too drunk to care. I am so terribly sorry.
I heard this apology at a story telling show called Rant & Rave in Los Angeles, CA.
I have probably heard somewhere near 1000 stories in venues like this in my lifetime.
This ranks in the Top 5 without a doubt.
As cliche as it sounds, prepare to laugh and cry. Well well worth your 15 minutes.
Tanya McClure is a writer and director and an alumnus of The Groundlings Theatre Sunday Company. Which is to say she’s a real humor aficionado. She can make you laugh your balls off, but she can rip your heart out, too. And lately, she’s discovered she’s more into hearts than balls anyway. Take a listen and see what I mean.
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We received this letter in the mail. No post mark. No return address. No opening or closing salutation.
“It may come to you as a shock, but I’ve never done this before. I’m too scared to confront people that I think don’t want anything to do with me.
I told someone really important to me on their death bed about what happened between us, and she told me to make things right. I talked to someone else about it more recently, and she told me that I get to respect your wishes to not contact you and (should) work on forgiving myself. I will probably never see you again and will never hear your side of the story and for that, I hate myself, because I’m pretty sure you hate me now. I was quick to judge based off my own past experiences and you took offense. I guess I had missed the mark completely. Is this the part where I say I’m sorry? I feel like those two words can’t really change much or fix anything.
Apparently, the process of apologizing is to lighten the load on me, so I guess it’s pointless to even write this, and the freedom will come when I start to actually forgive and love myself. The same person who did told me not to contact you also told me to accept the fact that I may die alone and never experience love and that people will then be attracted to that peace within me. God, that idea just seemed even more depressing.
I’ve come to the conclusion, though, that it’s probably best for me to be alone, then to be with someone who loves someone else, or to fall for guys who don’t really care about who I am. Right after things ended, I did get with someone else, and everything I accused you of, was in reality, were the arms that I ran directly into, and that, in fact, wasn’t what you were about at all. I’m sorry I fucked things up. I’m sorry for being fucked up. I wish you nothing but happiness and success, and I’m sorry for causing you even more pain than you were already in at the time.”
I apologize for wanting you to love me so much that I did us both a disservice by forgiving the unforgivable… over and over and over. Too many times.
It never worked.
I shouldn’t have tried twice.