A Farewell

To My Poor Little Lost Child,

It's hard to lose a child. It's easier when the child is not yet any larger than a kidney bean, but it's still hard. Hard to know that all of your potential was there, and it will never come to be.

Last month, your mother and I conceived you. We have wanted to have you since getting married, to join your brother Andrew and your sisters Caitlyn, Dagny and Darby. We looked forward to all of the firsts your little life would bring us. We looked forward to hearing your heartbeat and feeling your squirms. We looked forward to learning your gender and to your eventual emergence into the world. We knew from experience that we would learn as much from you as we taught you, seeing the world anew through your eyes.

Would your sister Caitlyn (as eldest sister) have risen to the occasion and taken on a mothering role, wishing to graduate from nurturing baby dolls to nurturing her baby sibling? Would your brother Andrew have come to welcome you into the family, even had you presented as female, further diluting the influence of the male gene in our household? Would your sisters Dagny and Darby have welcomed yet another new sibling into their family, younger this time rather than older?

We had talked about your name, and had come to call you Liam (a name I've always loved, since before I chose to take it for my nom de plume), and discussed "Lea" as an alternate, had you chosen to present as female.

What joy we felt when learning that you were growing within your mother. What a difference one day makes, one day full of hope and joy for your future, the next for whatever defect of your genetic structure or failure of your implantation, to know that you will not be joining our family.

Liam (or Lea), we will try again. We will try to have your brother or sister, and raise him or her with your name. We wish you had seen fit to join us this time.

Love,
Dad.

Copyright (c) February 27, 2005 by Liam Johnson. http://www.liamjohnson.net