Every time November arrives, my thoughts are of you. What sort of person you might have become, would you have loved art, like I do? Would you have been a happy and well adjusted soul? Would you have had your father's eyes? These are things I will never know, sometimes I hear you crying in my dreams…

You see, I never was able to give you a name, let alone a life, and I just wanted to let you know that in the brief time I was your mother, exactly what that was like. When I found out that you were conceived, I couldn't have been more scared in my life. I want you to know that the night that you were, was perhaps the most beautiful of my life, so it was fitting that you came from such a union.

When I lost you, I was alone. Alone and frightened, and I knew when I woke up that horrible morning that you were gone. It left a silence and emptiness in my soul I could not repair. You were a secret up until that time, I was not sure how I was going to explain you and time was running out. And I am ashamed that I could not stand up to everyone and just explain. I suddenly reverted into that child who would be afraid what her religious family thought of her "free" lifestyle. And I am sorry. Sorry I was not strong enough to tell my family that I was not the virgin they had come to close their eyes to believing. I am sorry I could not fix everything with your Father and tell him. I felt that I must do this alone. For us. I was just getting accustomed to you being in my body. I think every mother remembers that day, when you are sitting there and you suddenly feel different and you realize you aren't alone and it's an amazing and humbling and you feel a love like no other I can describe.

I tried to tell your father, but I failed. I also ignored the pains, I ignored my body telling me something was not right. I was under a lot of stress so maybe I feel as if I am the cause. There was only one person who knew about you, and they held my hand as I lay there that night long ago weeping as I lost you. I suppose I have to believe that you returned to wherever you had come from. Even now, I need to believe that.

But make no mistake, I felt you leave.

And I never had a name for you, or a photo of you, and as far as everyone in my life knew, you never existed, so I pushed the pain and disbelief and shock down and went on, smiling to people who did not matter. Right after I lost you, my own sister became pregnant, and I could not face her. I could not watch her grow and see her glowing and happy. I didn't see my niece for a long time, and when I finally did, and I held her, I am ashamed to admit I held her close to me and saw her big eyes that reminded me so much of myself and your father that for a moment I imagined she were you. But just for a moment. Now it is years later, I never had any children. My niece will be five next year, just like you would have been.

I still have that familiar ache when I see a baby, but it is not so powerful. I can smile now through my tears. After I lost you, and a doctor used a sonogram to have a look, something amazing was there. You. Your body was slowly reabsorbing into mine, and a more fitting place for you I cannot imagine. It is where you belonged.

And November has come around again, and there are two things I want you to know:

I loved your father so very much. And I loved you more than I ever realized I could possibly love anyone. What you brought to me was a precious gift, unrequited love in its purest form, and I thank you, for allowing me, for that brief time, to be...

Your Mother