My little Angel, Bean

To my tiny angel, Bean,

I don’t even know how to begin this letter without feeling my heart break all over again. I carried you with so much love from the very moment I knew you were there. Even before I could see you, I already felt you in my thoughts, in my body, in every plan I started making for our future. You were already my baby, my Bean, my hope, my reason to keep going even on hard days.

I remember how long I waited for you. Every day felt like a mix of excitement and quiet worry, like I was holding something so precious that I was afraid to even breathe too hard. But still, I was happy. Deeply, truly happy. Because you were finally coming into my life. I used to imagine what it would feel like when I finally hold you, what your face would look like, what your first cry would sound like, and how I would finally say, “You’re here. You’re mine. I’m your mom.”

The first time I saw you on the monitor, everything in me changed. You were so small, so delicate, but your heartbeat was there. That moment made everything real. I became a mother the second I saw you. My heart was full, even if my mind was still scared. I would sit there and just watch the time pass, counting the seconds, wondering how something so tiny could already mean so much to me.

Every day after that, I tried my best for you. I made choices for you. I ate carefully, I rested when I could, I avoided things I thought might harm you. Even when I was scared about the world and what people might say or think, I still chose you first. I was already ready to protect you, even from things I couldn’t see yet. I was already learning how to be your mom.

I had so many plans for us, Bean. I used to imagine our life together—how I would hold you, how I would talk to you, how I would teach you everything I know. I already pictured a future where I would be strong enough for both of us, where I could give you a safe and loving home. Even if I wasn’t financially stable or fully ready, my heart was already yours completely.

But life changed in a way I never expected. And I lost you before I could even meet you in the way I dreamed of. I keep replaying everything in my mind, and sometimes I still can’t understand why it had to happen this way. After you left, I found myself asking so many questions that have no answers, and carrying a blame that feels too heavy for my chest.

There are nights when I cannot sleep because I keep thinking about you. There are mornings when I wake up and for a few seconds, I forget what happened—and then reality comes back and it hurts all over again. I even feel it in simple moments, like buying things at the store, seeing reminders of what could have been. Everything feels different now. Empty in a way I can’t explain.

When my period came back after you, it felt like my body was telling a story my heart wasn’t ready to accept. It made everything feel real in a different way, and I didn’t know how to hold myself together. I cried in silence, thinking of you, wishing things had turned out differently.

And Bean… I need to tell you something I am still learning to accept myself. I blamed myself. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough, maybe I wasn’t strong enough to keep you safe. But deep down, I am trying to understand that losing you was not something I could control. It doesn’t take away how much I wanted you. It doesn’t take away how much I loved you. And it doesn’t mean I failed as your mother.

Because I was your mother. Even if it was only for a short time, I was already yours, and you were already mine.

I still talk to you in my heart. I still imagine you around me sometimes, like a quiet presence I can’t see but can still feel. I don’t know where you are now, but I hope you are somewhere peaceful, somewhere safe, somewhere you are not hurting and not afraid. I hope you feel how much you are loved, even from here.

I miss you so much, Bean. There are no words strong enough for this kind of missing. It is not something that goes away—it just changes shape over time. And even if life moves forward, a part of me will always remember you as my first tiny angel, the one who made me a mother.

I don’t know when I will fully heal, but I want to believe that I will learn how to carry this love without so much pain one day. And I want to promise you something, even if I’m still hurting: I will try to be kind to myself. I will try to keep living. I will try to honor you not only through sadness, but also through becoming stronger little by little.

You will always be my Bean. My first baby. My tiny angel. My love that came too soon and left too early—but never stopped being real.

I love you forever, my Bean ❤️