My Dearest Ella, If you weren't born, my child, if you weren't born... If you weren't born, I wouldn't have laid alone, in a hospital bed, like an empty drone. My chest ripping open with lonely cries, for my husband and daughter, sobbing tragic lullabies. If you weren't born, I wouldn't have risked my life, ridiculed by the doctors, feeling endless strife. Day by day they looked on me, with disgust-filled eyes, and some pit-y. If you weren't born, I wouldn't have been in pain, back aching from my frozen position, always the same. I thought if I moved, it might tear the sack, and leak out more fluid, which you already lacked. Yes, if you weren't born, I wouldn't have had stabbing grief, attacking my gut, with no sign of relief. You see, I was told you were as good as dead, when my water broke, and my heart bled. If you weren't born, I wouldn't have had to post,