Happy Birthday, Darling.
1/1
I’m sorry. That is all I can say.
I am writing to you now because you are old enough to understand the ways of life, and maybe even forgive me for what I did.
I remember the first time I held you. Gosh, you were beautiful, Rose, the most beautiful baby in the ward. I can still remember the way you looked at me, with your bright blue innocent eyes. Anybody who saw you fell in love with you, and I couldn’t handle not having you to myself.
You must understand that I was only a child; a girl of only 16, the same age you are now. The looks other mums gave me were atrocious, as if they were offended to be in the same room, but they still couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, and I couldn’t stand that.
You were mine, and I wanted to take you home that very day, but they wouldn’t let me, and they wouldn’t tell me why. You didn’t cry, you didn’t laugh; you only blinked and stared lifelessly into space. I couldn’t understand what they were telling me: something about you being moved to intensive care.
People came and went, but there was always someone new stopping me from seeing you: a nurse, a doctor, a psychiatrist, and even once a police officer. ‘You’re too young for a child’ ‘The child needs proper care,’ each one protecting the others’ statements.
I couldn’t take it anymore, not being able to see your chubby face. I escaped, don’t ask me how, I just did. I managed to get into your room and see you. You were so fragile, hooked up to all these different machines. I just sat in the corner watching you; watching how people acted around you. Caressed your sweet cheek, picked you up to burp you, comforted you when you eventually cried.
It all got too much for me, and I tried to stop myself but I couldn’t. My hands fumbled around the cloth and I did it. I cried, and cried, but couldn’t stop myself! I’m so sorry, Rose. You didn’t deserve such a jealous mother like me, and because of my actions, you’re gone.
They found me in such a state that I had to be removed from the hospital; they said my wailing was disturbing the other patients.
I got help though, Rose, I really did, and now I feel much better. I have a son now. His name is Taylor. You should see him, Rose. He could be your twin! He has your eyes, your beautiful eyes, and I’m grateful to have a memory of you.
You didn’t get a chance at life, and I’m sorry for that. But you’re safe now, away from anybody who would wish to hurt you, and that includes myself. I will never forgive myself over what happened, and I wish I could take it back, I really do.
I have said it too many times, and sorry just isn’t good enough, but I can’t find any other word that will explain how much I regret what I did.
Happy birthday, darling.
xx
I am writing to you now because you are old enough to understand the ways of life, and maybe even forgive me for what I did.
I remember the first time I held you. Gosh, you were beautiful, Rose, the most beautiful baby in the ward. I can still remember the way you looked at me, with your bright blue innocent eyes. Anybody who saw you fell in love with you, and I couldn’t handle not having you to myself.
You must understand that I was only a child; a girl of only 16, the same age you are now. The looks other mums gave me were atrocious, as if they were offended to be in the same room, but they still couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, and I couldn’t stand that.
You were mine, and I wanted to take you home that very day, but they wouldn’t let me, and they wouldn’t tell me why. You didn’t cry, you didn’t laugh; you only blinked and stared lifelessly into space. I couldn’t understand what they were telling me: something about you being moved to intensive care.
People came and went, but there was always someone new stopping me from seeing you: a nurse, a doctor, a psychiatrist, and even once a police officer. ‘You’re too young for a child’ ‘The child needs proper care,’ each one protecting the others’ statements.
I couldn’t take it anymore, not being able to see your chubby face. I escaped, don’t ask me how, I just did. I managed to get into your room and see you. You were so fragile, hooked up to all these different machines. I just sat in the corner watching you; watching how people acted around you. Caressed your sweet cheek, picked you up to burp you, comforted you when you eventually cried.
It all got too much for me, and I tried to stop myself but I couldn’t. My hands fumbled around the cloth and I did it. I cried, and cried, but couldn’t stop myself! I’m so sorry, Rose. You didn’t deserve such a jealous mother like me, and because of my actions, you’re gone.
They found me in such a state that I had to be removed from the hospital; they said my wailing was disturbing the other patients.
I got help though, Rose, I really did, and now I feel much better. I have a son now. His name is Taylor. You should see him, Rose. He could be your twin! He has your eyes, your beautiful eyes, and I’m grateful to have a memory of you.
You didn’t get a chance at life, and I’m sorry for that. But you’re safe now, away from anybody who would wish to hurt you, and that includes myself. I will never forgive myself over what happened, and I wish I could take it back, I really do.
I have said it too many times, and sorry just isn’t good enough, but I can’t find any other word that will explain how much I regret what I did.
Happy birthday, darling.
xx