It’s already 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 my own body rejected you.
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.
Some nights, I swear my arms are wrapped around your little body and I can just reach out to caress your cheek or brush a curl out of your face. Always, I wake up in the middle of the night and feel the emptiness flooding back. Some mornings, I feel your presence around me, only to turn and feel the stillness of the room mocking me.
I wanted you 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
I was inspired by dVerse’s prompt today to revise a piece I’d written in the past. Initially, “touch” made me think of romance and wanting to touch the one you love, but that train of thought eventually led me to ask, “what if you wanted to touch someone who wasn’t there?” How would that sort of touch feel like?