These last few days have been really hard for me. Yesterday marked two months since you left us and I was an emotional wreck. I haven’t felt so sad or cried so much since the first week you were gone. It was an uncontrollable sadness, and I couldn’t stop my tears from coming, even while we were at church. Daddy and I sat in the back row, both so sad, and just tried to keep ourselves together. I couldn’t sing a single word of the worship music in fear that I’d just break down. Usually just not singing can help keep my eyes dry, but yesterday the tears came no matter what.
After church daddy and I had planned to attend a small group with married couples. We hadn’t been to a single meeting since you were born, and we felt it was time. However, I couldn’t do it. The reason it was especially hard was because as I stood outside the door to the meeting room, memories of the last time I had been there flooded me. The last time I had stood in that exact spot I had said “Well, the next time you see me I’ll have my baby with me.” I had said it on Sunday, May 26th, your due date.
Those words echoed through my mind as I stood in that small hallway and I couldn’t stop the breakdown. It was so much more than tears, it was overwhelming sadness and anger and frustration and pain. It was a total breakdown.
I had an excuse to go down to grandma and grandpa’s apartment (they live in the same apartment building that the married couples meet in) and so I went down in the elevator so I could have a little time alone to collect myself. Grandma and grandpa were still at church so I had the apartment to myself. I went into the bathroom and just let the tears come. I let the words come—“I want my baby, I want my baby, I want my baby”. I covered my mouth with my hand and screamed as loud as I could, hoping that would release some of the emotion.
It didn’t help.
I went back up the elevator and called daddy to come and meet me in the hallway. I told him that I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. Your daddy is a wonderful man, and he just hugged me and told me it was alright. He quickly got his things and we went home, tears still streaming down my face.
Sophia, it was a really bad day.
Besides the fact that yesterday was your two month “angelversary” and today it has been 9 weeks since you died, tomorrow is also a significant day in our (yours and mine) history. One year ago, on September 24th, I found out I was pregnant with you. One year ago I stared down in disbelief at those two pink lines. One year ago I called your daddy and said “Are you sitting down…?” One year ago I heard the smile on his face through the phone as he said “Really????” One year ago I found out that you were mine and I was yours. One year ago our relationship started and one year ago I gave my heart and love to you.
One year ago I never expected that in a year I’d be writing a letter to my dead daughter. I never expected that you wouldn’t be in my arms and that our home would be silent of baby coos and giggles.
I never thought that this would be the road my pregnancy with you would lead me. I didn’t think a year ago that the surprise of your life wouldn’t be long followed by the sorrow of your death.
Now you see why it was such a bad day. Well, actually each day without you is a bad day, but this was a really bad day. I am grateful that days like that are fewer now than they were nine weeks ago. I thank God that every day isn’t a really bad day.
I miss you, Sophia, plain and simple. I don’t think that will ever change. But as I’ve said before, instead of letting myself dwell on the fact that you’ve been away from me for 9 weeks, I try to remind myself that for those 9 weeks you’ve been with Him. You’ve had 9 weeks in Heaven, and that’s the best thing I could ever wish for you.
Love you forever,