Sunsets
To My Beautiful Baby Girl -
I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to write to you. It's been 1 week and 2 days since your perfect little body came into this world, and has been the longest and hardest 1 week and 2 days of my life. Your Daddy is on his way to pick you up right now, and I can't seem to process how my little baby is now coming home to live with us in the form of ashes. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. But I know I will feel better having you home with us, where you are meant to be.
I'm not sure where we are going to keep you yet. We thought the nursery might be a nice place, but I still haven't gathered the strength to open the door to that room yet. I think I might want you in my bedroom, which has become my hideout, and where I spend most of my hours, just wishing they would go by faster so the days will end, and time will move on, and this gigantic whole in my heart will begin to close. When the weather gets nicer we are going to plant a rose bush in our garden and keep you there, right out the back window so we can always see you, and you can enjoy the peacefulness of our outdoor oasis, and have a front row seat to the incredible sunsets we get to watch every evening. They have been extra spectacular this past week, and I know it's you and your fiery spirit, putting on a show for us.
Your Daddy and I have spent the last 9 days crying a lot, but also thinking about you and how beautiful you were. You had quite the head of dark Lebanese hair, and your Daddy's nose for sure and maybe his lips (that's up for debate). He likes to think that you had most of his features, and we'll let him think that, but between you and me, I'm pretty sure you had your Mama's eyes.
I will never understand why this happened to our family, and why I didn't get to bring home my baby girl. There are many days I blame myself for not being able to protect you from that umbilical cord. There are days I get jealous of my friends, and even strangers, that get to have their babies and cuddle them, and feed them, and rock them to sleep. I would give anything to be up all night, exhausted, un-showered, and hear your cries from your nursery, and know I could go in there and kiss your little face and sooth you back to sleep. But for some reason, that I will never quite understand, I don't get to do that. And that will take a very long time for me to come to terms with.
Your Grandma thinks it's because there was something more painful down the pipeline, and this saved you from ever having to feel any pain. I don't know if that is true, but it does make me feel a little better to believe that. Your Grandma and I have been spending our mornings/afternoons drinking coffee in bed, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, and sometimes just in silence, thinking about you. It has become our coping routine. Where as your Daddy has been focusing on keeping busy. He has taken apart and cleaned the grill, emptied and cleaned the hot tub, changed the oil in his car, mowed the lawn, taken apart and washed the outdoor furniture, and broken out the leaf blower (which he says is an effort in vain). As you can see, we have very different ways of dealing with you not being here with us. I always wonder if you would have gotten what I like to call your Daddy's "OCD cleaning" gene, or your Mama's "laundry on the floor" gene.
There are so many things I wonder about what you would have been like. I was prepared to have you in my life till the day I died, and there is just something so unnatural about it being the opposite. I try and turn those thoughts off for now, as that rabbit hole is just a little too painful to wander down right now. But one day I know, this will all be a little easier, and the thought of you and what you would have been like will be bearable.
I must admit I was scared to write this first letter to you. There was something about putting it into words that made everything seem real, which maybe I have been trying to avoid. Now that I've started, I must say, it does make me feel so close to you. I hope you can hear my words and these letters make it to you, wherever it is you might be.
I love you more than any words could describe. I really hope you know that, and can feel that. You will forever be my precious baby girl, and I will forever be your Mommy. Sleep well my sweet girl.
Love,
Mommy
I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to write to you. It's been 1 week and 2 days since your perfect little body came into this world, and has been the longest and hardest 1 week and 2 days of my life. Your Daddy is on his way to pick you up right now, and I can't seem to process how my little baby is now coming home to live with us in the form of ashes. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. But I know I will feel better having you home with us, where you are meant to be.
I'm not sure where we are going to keep you yet. We thought the nursery might be a nice place, but I still haven't gathered the strength to open the door to that room yet. I think I might want you in my bedroom, which has become my hideout, and where I spend most of my hours, just wishing they would go by faster so the days will end, and time will move on, and this gigantic whole in my heart will begin to close. When the weather gets nicer we are going to plant a rose bush in our garden and keep you there, right out the back window so we can always see you, and you can enjoy the peacefulness of our outdoor oasis, and have a front row seat to the incredible sunsets we get to watch every evening. They have been extra spectacular this past week, and I know it's you and your fiery spirit, putting on a show for us.
Your Daddy and I have spent the last 9 days crying a lot, but also thinking about you and how beautiful you were. You had quite the head of dark Lebanese hair, and your Daddy's nose for sure and maybe his lips (that's up for debate). He likes to think that you had most of his features, and we'll let him think that, but between you and me, I'm pretty sure you had your Mama's eyes.
I will never understand why this happened to our family, and why I didn't get to bring home my baby girl. There are many days I blame myself for not being able to protect you from that umbilical cord. There are days I get jealous of my friends, and even strangers, that get to have their babies and cuddle them, and feed them, and rock them to sleep. I would give anything to be up all night, exhausted, un-showered, and hear your cries from your nursery, and know I could go in there and kiss your little face and sooth you back to sleep. But for some reason, that I will never quite understand, I don't get to do that. And that will take a very long time for me to come to terms with.
Your Grandma thinks it's because there was something more painful down the pipeline, and this saved you from ever having to feel any pain. I don't know if that is true, but it does make me feel a little better to believe that. Your Grandma and I have been spending our mornings/afternoons drinking coffee in bed, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, and sometimes just in silence, thinking about you. It has become our coping routine. Where as your Daddy has been focusing on keeping busy. He has taken apart and cleaned the grill, emptied and cleaned the hot tub, changed the oil in his car, mowed the lawn, taken apart and washed the outdoor furniture, and broken out the leaf blower (which he says is an effort in vain). As you can see, we have very different ways of dealing with you not being here with us. I always wonder if you would have gotten what I like to call your Daddy's "OCD cleaning" gene, or your Mama's "laundry on the floor" gene.
There are so many things I wonder about what you would have been like. I was prepared to have you in my life till the day I died, and there is just something so unnatural about it being the opposite. I try and turn those thoughts off for now, as that rabbit hole is just a little too painful to wander down right now. But one day I know, this will all be a little easier, and the thought of you and what you would have been like will be bearable.
I must admit I was scared to write this first letter to you. There was something about putting it into words that made everything seem real, which maybe I have been trying to avoid. Now that I've started, I must say, it does make me feel so close to you. I hope you can hear my words and these letters make it to you, wherever it is you might be.
I love you more than any words could describe. I really hope you know that, and can feel that. You will forever be my precious baby girl, and I will forever be your Mommy. Sleep well my sweet girl.
Love,
Mommy
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