Eli's Corner

To My Little Bean


Your heart may no longer be beating, but your body is still nestled in my womb, and I still feel like your caretaker.  While you’re still here, there are a few things that, in whatever cosmic realm where you are capable of knowing, I will you to know:

You were perfect.
They’re saying that this is my body’s way of keeping an unhealthy baby from being born, that most likely there was something wrong with you.  But I know a secret: you were perfect.  You were perfect, and you were powerful.  I’m not saying that to try to extrapolate meaning from this…I’m saying it because it’s true…

You changed my life.
You gave me the chance, for nine glorious weeks, to be your mother.  I didn’t know that I could be a mother.  I didn’t even know that my body was capable of being pregnant.  And, you, you amazing, powerful little bean, did what no one else could do, you gave me the gift of being a mom.

You gave me superpowers.
I experienced the wonder of watching my body change to accomodate you – changes invisible to everyone else, but I marveled as my body took over, doing what it needed to do to make a home for you.  I reveled in every clue that signalled it was working. Even every time I felt nauseated, I was filled with awe.  You showed me that my body, which I have seen as broken and defective for so long, is amazing and capable and knows how to do this.

You were loved.
A lot.  You had a huge group of friends, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents that was so excited about you.  I’ll never forget the crazy shout from your uncle, aunt and cousins when we called to tell them about you.  Your family on your daddy’s side mobbed us with hugs.  Your cousin offered to drop out of college to be your nanny (I told her no way).  There were cigars, there was champagne (your daddy’s friends went out and got some in your honor, even though none of us were there), there was laughing, there was crying, there were celebratory muffins.  All because of you.  You had some amazing, amazing, amazing people gathered around you, little bean.

You had the best daddy.
You really did.  He was built to be a daddy.  He asked about you all the time, he talked to you, he prayed over you, over us.  He was working so hard to make sure we’d be taken care of.  He sometimes worried about whether or not he was able to be the daddy that you needed, but he did the best, most wonderful job of it.  In your life, and in your death, I’ve seen tenderness and strength in him that I have never seen before.  I think you’re making us love each other better.

Thank you, my amazing little miracle.  I may have times when I’m very, very sad that you’re gone, but there is no part of me that will ever be sorry that you came.  You’ve changed me forever, just exactly as you are.


Author: eli

I'm trying to become a mom. I write about that and other things here. Welcome to my little corner of the web.

2 thoughts on “To My Little Bean

  1. This is one of my favorite quotes, from one of my favorite books…

    “You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?”
    ― Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

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