Tuesday, May 29, 2012

A letter to my first

Dear Bremy,

It's hard to find the words to write to you now. There has not been one single day that has passed that I've not thought of you and all that you meant to us. Not one single day. Most of those days have involved a tear, or two, or a lot. Some days more than others. These are thoughts and tears that I mostly keep to myself. Thoughts and tears I mostly have while I'm in the car or while I try to fall asleep. Your sister is a lot different from you as far as her movement and positioning. I'm kind of thankful for that because I can really differentiate you both. As I approach the week that we lost you, it's becoming harder.

It's strange to know what a baby looks like at 23 weeks and 5 days, but I know because of you. It makes it so much more real to know what the baby girl inside of me now is starting to look like, at least developmentally and proportion-wise.

In the last month, the nightly slideshow of the day of your birth has stopped. I don't re-live it every night anymore and I'm very thankful for that because they are the worst memories of my entire life. But now as I type that I grasp for breath because the pain is still there. It's always just-right there.

After we lost you, I wrote that I missed feeling you inside of me and that I did not yet feel that you were watching over us in any way. But I definitely feel you again. Just in little ways. I like to believe you are with my Grandma and Grandpa and that you are being taken care of, that you are happy together.

I'm finally starting to grow thankful for my experience with you. Not completely, but I'm starting to see all of the things that helped us for this time around. The fact that they saw my incompetent cervix relatively early, so that they knew for sure that's what it was. The fact that I was already in the hospital when I went into labor with you. I wonder how much more traumatic it would have been to have that happen out of nowhere at work or at home, or in the car alone? I'm also thankful that the sonographer who measured you at 20 weeks got the measurements wrong. The only reason we were referred to a specialist was because they said your head was too big. The specialist checked, and it wasn't too big at all. But during that check, they saw my open cervix. The worst news, but now, I'm very thankful and know that the measurement was wrong for a reason. And because of that, I was officially diagnosed and then placed in the hospital.

There are a lot of other things in our life that probably would not have happened had you lived. I'm thankful for those things, one big thing in particular (a new house) and of course, your sister. We probably wouldn't have gotten pregnant that soon had you survived. So your quick appearance in our life was not in vain.

 I also know my personality has changed, and I hope that it's for the better. I'm a little more reserved and quiet- but also not as quick to judge. I feel more compassionate and empathetic to people's pain. I'd never, ever been through anything that hurt this much and when I see people feeling similarly about  things in their life, I get it. I get it much more than I ever used to. As much as it hurts, I'm thankful for it.

You continue to teach me and continue to be a part of our story as a family.  I miss you and I love you and I will always wish that you were still with me. I'm thankful for you and grateful for the time I did have with you, my girl.


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