I had a baby. 

Almost.

I had an almost baby.

An almost life of diapers, bottles, little fingers and toes.

I almost chose that.

Almost.

And the moment I started to fade away, when the drugs they'd pumped into me had almost set in completely, 

I almost said,

Stop.

Wait.

And when I woke I could almost remember what it felt like to be whole. I could almost feel the empty space, the empty fingernail sized space left behind.

Almost.

I miss you, almost baby. 

I'm sorry, almost baby.

There is no almost about the love I feel for you.

Love,

Your almost mum.