Dear Ayomide,
My joy, my love, my everything. I miss you. I miss the way you used to kick me and wear me out and give me sleepless nights and aches and pains.

Ayomide, I prayed for you, ached for you, willed you to come and you heard me. You were finally here! Our joy, mine and your father’s. In my belly, kicking, tossing and turning.

I could see you in my head, saying your first words, taking your first steps, going off to preschool, graduating from college, getting married with daddy sobbing like a baby; my cute little girl with curly, soft hair like mine and perfectly set eyes like her father’s.

I could feel you. Feel you hugging me, feel your presence in all my happy moments,feel the pulsating, overwhelming love I had for you.

You were mine, finally. Until you dripped down my legs, a bloody mess for the third time.

Now white hospital walls is all I see. Pain and emptiness in my belly and my heart are all I feel.

Why is it that you don’t want to stay? Do you think I’ll be a bad mother? I promise you I won’t if you only give me a chance. Or it that God is punishing me? For what exactly? Is He just toying with my emotions, dangling you in front of me and then snatching you away when I reach out to touch you? Showing me that I’m nothing but His puppet? Or is it the devil that’s afflicting me and God’s just there watching, arms folded?

Ayomide, come back to me. Please. And stay this time. Stay.

Your mother.

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I’ve been wanting to write this for a while but I kept forgetting and then something somewhat similar happened to someone I know and I remembered. It’s pretty short and I don’t know if I was able to quite capture the emotion but I hope you enjoy.