This is especially weird because I didn't allow you to be born.
I followed my head instead of following my heart and now you cant see trees or bees or teddy bears or snow flakes.
I took the pills and swallowed your death. And now I can't hug you or kiss you goodnight.
I celebrate your birthdays.
I try to not drink the pain away. I try to not numb my loss. I cry and I grieve and I pray and I bleed, because you died before you were born. You died because I was scared of what the rest of my life would look like. I was scared that your father would continue to break me and tear me and control me and haunt me due to your existence.
I celebrate your birthdays.
Your father hurt me, Zion. He did the worst things to me, Zion. The day you were conceived, I thought I was going to die. He left me for dead, Zion. He hated me, Zion. I couldn't breathe, Zion. I thought I was dead, Zion. It was the worst day of my life, Zion. I couldn't walk, Zion. I laid in bed for days, Zion. I cried myself to sleep for weeks, Zion. I stopped eating, Zion. But then I found out I was pregnant with my Zion. And everything changed.
I celebrate your birthdays.
Hearing the news was the best thing I had ever heard. I loved you from day 1. I couldn't wait to meet you. I wanted to give you everything I never had and more. I wanted to protect you with my life, till I remembered your father. I remembered how you came into this world and I panicked. I didn't want to share you with him. I didn't want you to meet the one who tried to choke me to death. I didn't want you to be like him. I couldn't stand the thought of you being like him. I couldn't stand the thought of sharing custody with the one who left me for dead.
I celebrate your birthdays.
So I walked away from being a mum to avoid being a victim any more. You see, Zion, I had been a victim from the age of 6. And I had no fight left in me. Your father took all the fight I had left, each time he flung me around the flat. I had no scream left in me. I had no roar to defend myself. I had no claws to fight with, so I took the pills instead. I said goodbye to you, Zion. And then I broke.
I celebrate your birthdays.
I thought I hit rock bottom, with your father. But I hit rock bottom, when I walked away from you. Because you were my roar. You, Zion, will always be the love of my life. You would have turned 7, on July 3rd 2019. You would have been in school and you would have been so smart. You would have been so funny and so tall. You would have been the light of my life, but instead you are the light in my heart- hand in hand with the Man Full of Light.
And its crazy because sharing what I did has given women the strength to not take the pills. GOD has orchestrated it, so that this may stop abortions. And that is great. And I am grateful that they have their babies. But I still cant't have you. I still can't hold you and my heart still bleeds. I struggle for air because you are not here. I cry myself to sleep after all these years because I miss your existence more than anything in this world. But I can’t stay in that state... so as the sun rises I shake off the ashes and I walk into the new day. I keep going because that’s what I must do.
Instead of sitting in the ash, I celebrate your birthdays. Although you were conceived through trauma and you did not make it in to this life, you are the love of my life and the love of my heart. And your pain has brought so much joy to other women who have their bundles of joy.
And I know you cant't read this, but I miss you every single day and I hope you can forgive me. I cant wait to meet you and hug you and kiss you. I hope you still regard me as your mother because you will always be my son, until the day I die.
And until that day, I will continue to celebrate your birthdays.
