I recently thought I've been through it all. Believing in God was like grasping at straws. I've danced, I've drunk, I’ve seen death, and I've witnessed life. But before I knew it, there was a pain worse than strife. I've juggled obstacles that seemed impossible to overcome. I've balanced the challenges thrown at me just to do drugs that made me numb. I’ve made mistakes in my life I wish I could take back.

I thought I knew what love was until the blood pooled around me and I witnessed love slowly dying. The rose petals drifted off into the silhouette of the morning, the tears spilling out of my eyes were able to drown my mistaken sorrows, and the new normal emotion became endless sadness and empty crying. I could lay in bed and sleep away all my fears, but I feel like I’m tucking in a child that is no longer here.

I’m carrying empty thoughts of “what could have beens” and imagining a life that ceases to exist. The constant throbbing and pain paints a picture of what it means to really go insane. My crumbling emotions are spiraling out of control; boy or girl is the difference between a missing piece and feeling whole. Not knowing is the hardest part, but falling on my knees and praying lifts a heavy burden from my heart.

If I could take it all back, I don't think I would. You were the greatest thing to happen to me; in a world filled with bad, you were my good. The purity of new life brings hope, and with death comes learning how to cope. With these words I write that I know you can't hear; I pray to the Lord that he'll bring you near. An angel was gained even though you went away. I hope to God I meet you in Heaven one day.

When I was younger, I never was one to dream about having children. I wasn’t a little girl who played with baby dolls. Babies always seemed like annoying little bed-wetters who just grow up to eat all their parents’ money. I never understood why families wanted children. I know how awful of a child I was sometimes, and that does not seem like torture I would like to put myself through. However, this one moment in my life, this one themed tragedy, changed my thinking on that concept completely.

I never saw myself as a mom; actually, I’ve always found it hard to imagine a future for myself at all. To understand this story, you might need to know a little bit about me. You see, I have this issue where seeing a future for myself is extremely difficult. I have always constantly struggled with whether or not I would see five years from now, four years from now, three years, two years.

I never thought there was a point to imagining a life that I may never even get to see. I came to terms with the fact that I may die young a long time ago. At 15 I said I would never see 16; at 16 I said I would never see 18, and at 18 I said I would never get to see 21. Well, here I am. I made it to 21 and it’s been one hell of a year.

It all started when I thought I was “in love.” *rolls eyes* Right, though? This boy who I knew was no good for me. Timeout. You know, we’ve all had a boy or boys that we’ve brought home just to piss off our parents? Well, that’s exactly who he was; the boy who pisses off the parents. Anyway, long story short, we did things that may or may not have ended up in the making of a baby. I didn’t realize that until I was home in May after the school year ended. Actually, once I did finally realize the situation and had that initial freak-out moment, I sat on my thoughts for a while. I started actually planning a future; I started seeing all of the possibilities float among the different galaxies at night. I could see it. I could see something.

This. Blew. My. Mind. Never once have I ever imagined a wedding, a family, children. I was always focused on working my ass off to become someone, to provide for myself, to be a woman who really is independent. I wanted to break the norms of “stay at home mom” or “childbearing prodigy.” I wanted to be someone more than that. That was, until this moment. Age 21 changed a lot for me.

I started making plans in my head and actually getting excited about something I knew I was not ready for. I wasn’t ready for dirty diapers and endless nights of no sleep. I wasn’t prepared for the finances of doctors, clothes, bottles, diapers, and God forbid college. I still, however, couldn’t stop myself from being just a little bit excited.

It was the next day when I realized that little moment of excitement would come to an end. I found myself on the tile of my bathroom floor wallowing in a puddle of my own tears. I had no idea where to go from here. Thoughts flooded my mind of it all not being real, but I knew I had to convince myself before I was able to heal. A miscarriage. A miscarriage. I had to repeat it to myself over and over to even consider it as a possibility.

I didn’t let my mind get the best of me for too long because the next day I went to the ER. They were able to confirm my fear. My skin turned pale and I lost my breath. I couldn’t imagine that the one time I finally was able to see a future for myself, it was taken away as fast as I was able to grab it. I cried for a while and I wrote about it a few times but nothing I wrote seemed to be good enough.

I wasn’t ever able to find the words to capture the emotion that I felt that day. May 14th, 2017. A date that will always resonate with me for the rest of my life. The reason that I’m able to see myself as a mother now. The reason I’m able to make plans for my future again. The reason I have hope again.

This experience was that of a tragic one. Losing a child I never got to meet. Not knowing if it was a boy or girl leaves me feeling empty. I’m nostalgic for what could have been, but not getting the chance to know. Although, I know in the end I won’t ever be alone. I believe deep down that everything in this life happens for a reason. I wasn’t ready; I wasn’t prepared or stable enough in my life to raise a child. If there was anything positive that came out of this, it’s that I’ve given life another shot. I’m giving my future a chance and maybe even a family.