Dear Mommy,

I learned who I was going to be today. You were going to name me Mirabella, the name you had always wanted to give to your baby if you had a girl. You loved the name because it was unusual and you always wanted a daughter who would stand out of the crowd. I’d have looked like daddy with my brown hair and blue eyes but I would have had your face. You’d want to spend every moment with me from the minute I was born and I would love you.

On my first day of kindergarten, I’d cling to your leg but once you finally pried me off, I would have so much fun at school that I’d never want to leave. I’d get straight A’s all through school and I’d spend a lot of time reading. That always gave you something to brag about since none of the other kids would ever read. I would have had quite an overactive imagination and you would constantly tell me I should write some of the books that I read.

You and daddy would look so proud on my first day of high school. I would have made some new friends and even have gotten a boyfriend. Then you would have to dry my tears when that boy broke my heart. I started acting and got the leads in a few plays through out school. There’d be other boys and more friends and more A’s. When I would get all those acceptance letters from some really good colleges, you and I and daddy would be so excited. I would graduate as valedictorian and would give a speech on how you and daddy were the reason for my success all these years.

I’d go off to college and graduate that, too. I’d even publish a book and become a national bestseller. I’d get married to a wonderful guy, the best you could find. I’d publish more books and have two wonderful girls. You’d always love that your grandchildren took after my husband with their gorgeous blond hair.

I’d live to a ripe old age and die peacefully in my sleep after seeing my own grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I would have had the best life you ever could have wished for me. But, mommy, now I don’t have that chance. You let some monster come and take that all away. I just want you to know all the things I – we – missed out on.

I don’t know why you let the monster do that to me. Jesus tells me it’s because the world doesn’t understand that we’re alive. They think that if you’re unborn, you don’t have a life. Mommy, I need to know that I did have a life and it hurts to know that you decided to take that away from me unjustly. You loved me already so I don’t understand how you could think that there was any way that I wasn’t alive yet.

I still can’t understand why you would do something like this. I get all the situations behind it but I still don’t understand how you could let them do this. I get that you were only eighteen. You had college and a life to look forward to. But daddy wanted to marry you and said that together you’d find a way to still go college, still have a life. You’d just have a baby in that life. Other people have done it. Why couldn’t you two? You wanted me but you didn’t think it would be fair to bring a child into a world like that. You didn’t want me to have to deal with the guilt of knowing that I made your life even harder. You didn’t want me to have to grow up knowing I was an accident, a mistake. Mommy, I want you know I wouldn’t have cared.

Daddy wanted me. He wanted to marry you and have me more than anything. You wanted to the same but grandma didn’t want you to. Still, I know you could have found a way. Why did you let grandma talk you into this?

I know they were both there with you when you did this to me. Daddy held your hand and he cried the whole time, begging you to change your mind the last minute. Grandma told you this had to be done. Daddy called her the monster. He wanted me. He loved you and he loved me. Why didn’t you listen to daddy? You could have listened to him right then and still had me. You could have walked out of the hospital and married him and had me.
But you didn’t.

Mommy, it hurt so much when you let the monster kill me. Not just emotionally, but physically, too. I could feel it all as the monster ripped me apart and pulled me out of you. I don’t think there’s any pain that could hurt that much. Couldn’t you have found a less painful way to kill me if you felt you had to kill me at all?

The last thing I heard in my basically nonexistent life was you and daddy crying.

I already miss everything I have lost. Some other child will get all my good grades. Some different teenager will get the leads in the plays now that I can’t. Somebody else will write my books. Some other girl will marry my husband. Some other couple will have my children, if they can even exist at all anymore. All because you made a choice that I couldn’t object to because I didn’t quite yet have a voice to speak with.

I know you cry yourself to sleep every night, mommy. You regret the decision that you made more than anything. I’m not trying to make you feel worse about it because I already know that you’d do anything and everything to take back the choice that you made and have me be your little girl again. I just want you to know that I miss you even though you did what you did. I miss you more than all the chances that I’ve lost.

I have to go now, mommy. Jesus is calling me. But I need you to that I forgive you anyway. I just had to tell you everything I missed out on so that you don’t make the same mistake again. Jesus wants you to know that he forgives you too. I still love you, mommy. And tell daddy I love him, too. I’ll always be your little girl.

-Mirabella