1.22.21 10:11 am
More than anything I wish I could speak to you in my arms and so the next best option seems to be to write to you.
My heart longs for you. My arms crave you in a way they've never craved anyone before. You are my baby. I loved you the moment I saw you on the ultrasound monitor just weeks after your conception. I love you with every ounce of my soul. I was thrilled to hear of your existence. I spent nearly 33 weeks imaging who you would be, what your personality would be like and what you would do with your life. In no part of my brain had I imagined your perishing at almost 33 weeks while held in my womb. I met with a neonatologist, read preemie outcome studies, prepared for care providers familiar with preemies and prepped myself with the potential for a preterm delivery.
I held you with everything I had. I used every ounce of myself and it wasn't enough. I flash between feeling the crushing guilt of a mother who is convinced in some way she is responsible for your passing and the deep despair of a mother's realization that all of her days will be spent without her beloved baby.
The 15+ ultrasounds, 2 fetal MRIs, 3 amnios/CVS, genetic sequences and specialist consults were all a tangible way for me to prove my love for you. My commitment to giving you the best possible life.
All of the tests were excruciating given my 15+ fibroids, likely endometriosis and preexisting conditions but none of that mattered because compared to my love for you the pain was all insignificant. My love for you was enough for me to do what I could do to help you but it was not enough to save you. That is in God's hands. I must trust that you are safe with our loving God. I often wonder what your purpose will ultimately be and many have said that is an essential part of the grieving process to answer this question. I am beginning to see that you may be ushering your Father and I back to God and our faith. Life has been so complicated in our 10 years of marriage. We have pushed faith, service and church to the side in an attempt to survive. Surviving our lives has so many times felt impossible. Between all 3 of our health issues (Mommy, Daddy, and Henry) and building our business from scratch we are exhausted. We thought if we just put our head down for 9 more months our family would be complete with you and we could have some rest between the sleepless nights.
All of the tests and consults stated everything looked perfect and here we are without you. Your soul is perfect and now in perfect union with God.
I have struggled with whether to publish these letters or to keep them between you and I. My heart wants all to know the love I have for you. The extent to which you are and were worth it. You were tough. You survived a uterus full of fibroids and a less than ideal umbilical artery linking us. Your toughness will hopefully rub off on us.