I know it’s only been three weeks, but I swear I can still feel you kicking inside me. The doctor said writing in a journal would help, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t help knowing that my own body rejected you. You were my precious baby girl, who was supposed to grow up with springy little curls, curious hazel eyes, and all the energy of a small tornado.
The doctor said it was a tragic accident, but there are no accidents. The doctor said time would make it easier, but that’s a lie too.
I miss you so much baby girl. Some nights, I swear I’m hugging you, only to wake up in the middle of the night and feel the emptiness flooding back. Some mornings, I swear I hear you running lightly behind me, giggling in that innocence that you would have, only to turn and hear the silence mocking me.
I wanted you so much, baby girl. So much. But I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough to take care of you and bring you into this world, and now…now I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep missing you.
© Jade M. Wong 2016
Double prompt combo! Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner and Sacha Black’s Writerspiration #82: Nostalgia that hurts. Word Count: 193.