“To my 11-week-old baby:
I was watching a polar bear mama who just had two baby cubs (some show on The Arctic). She held them for weeks as it was too cold to go out; snuggled and bundled in her paws, she licked their fur every couple of minutes, rearranged it so that they looked their absolute cutest. Finally they could roam free and the mama was on close watch scanning every direction, noise and movement. All the while, the sweet little cubs learning to tumble and eat while exploring the new world. As soon as danger lurked, she hurried them to safety; their protector, their guardian.
I cried the whole time — silent tears streaming down my face into a sea of sorrow.
Your daddy didn’t notice (sometimes I think he never does). I was just like the polar bear, doing anything I could to protect my baby.
Except I wasn’t successful; I’ll never hold you, teach you, love you.
To my unborn baby: I’m sorry that our careers suck, the world sucks and we can’t afford to give you the best life that you deserve. I’m sorry that you have to hear me cry every day and every night when you should feel the best of me. I’m sorry that I can’t fucking understand how I’m having an abortion and I can’t fucking cope because all I want is you. Your daddy says that I’ve been through much worse and I’ll make it through this. But he lied. And if you have to die, why the fuck should I live? #howdoyoucope “
—submitted anonymously to The Artidote