Dear Camila,
I remember how excited you were when you found out a year later after we got married that we were going to be having a baby. You and I both knew that a child is what we both wanted and so we went to a sperm donor, found a handsome man who resembled me almost like he was my twin and then started the process. At first the process didn't work and we had to keep trying and keep asking the same guy for more sperm, but finally one Sunday afternoon, it worked.
It worked, Camila. I woke up one morning to find you in the bathroom, looking down at three white sticks. I had been drowsy that morning since I had just woken up so I didn't give much thought to what it was.
"What's that?" I remember asking. I came up behind you and wrapped my arms around your waist and nuzzled my face into your neck
You looked up into the mirror in front of you and smiled. "I'm pregnant" You explained. "We're gonna have a baby, Lauren. Our own child."
I almost died that day because I was so happy and excited. We were finally gonna have a child of our own after trying over and over again for one. I remember picking you up and spinning you around in the bathroom out of excitement. I set you down and kissed you. We spent the whole day at home celebrating our accomplishment by cuddling in bed chowing down on ice cream. That whole day I couldn't help but touch your stomach over and over again and speak into it. You would just laugh and squirm under me as my breath tickled your skin.
For four months after we found out that you were pregnant we mostly spent it telling our family and friends about the news and trying to find a new and bigger house so we could build our family. We even got to find out the gender of the baby when the fourth month closed in.
We were having a baby boy.
Often when I came home, I would sit beside you and we would talk about possible names and discuss and bet on what we thought our child would look like when it was a toddler. Whether or not he would look more like you or more like me.
We settled on the name Max, because it was so simple but yet it was an adorable name.
One day, about four and a half months into the pregnancy, I woke up and found the bed sheets completely soaked. I didn't worry very much since I was still drowsy from my sleep. When I lifted the blanket to see what was all over the sheets, it was completely red.
It was your blood. The babies blood too. Something was very very wrong.
I woke you up and rushed you to the hospital quickly. I ran you to the office of the hospital with you in my arms as you wept. The nurses got you in as fast as possible and they ran all sorts of tests on you. I felt so helpless not being able to do anything to help you, but I knew the doctors were doing the best that they could.
After many hours of tests and a couple of screenings, the doctors finally came to the conclusion that you had miscarried. There was no more baby. Just you and me. Again.
You wept that night. It was so uncontrollable and I couldn't help you. You pushed me away and yelled atme every time that I tried to touch you or hold you close to me. I let you sleep it off and settled myself on the couch.
I was crushed myself that our baby was no more. God had taken the baby from us so soon. I don't really believe in religion, but that night I got on my knees and prayed and asked the lord what kind of plan he had because in that time I was hurting.
"Why, Lord?" I said "Why? We deserve this more than anyone, and you know that. Camila deserves this."
But like I predicted, my question went unanswered.
Sincerely,
Lauren Jauregui
