My dear daughter,
It seems that mommy will have more time to write to you these days. The doctor decided that we need to be cautious with your little brother and has put me on bed rest for the next three months. I'm hoping this works out and that your little brother grows to full term before he is born. Reading my baby books makes me think of you. I never got to this point in pregnancy with you, but my books are now talking about labor and delivery. It reminds me of the day we lost you. I remember the painful contractions and how they hurt more and more the further I got along. I remember allowing them to give me stronger and stronger medications to ease the pain because I was hurting so much emotionally that I couldn't handle more pain on top of it. I remember finally falling asleep after they gave me the epidural and then waking up when the pain got to be too much for the epidural to ease. I remember the sensation of my water breaking and how short a time it took for you to be born after that. I remember holding your precious little body for the first time. You were already gone, but we needed to touch you and to see you. I remember the pain in your daddy's face. I remember dressing you in the clothing they gave us for you. I remember marveling over the perfection of your tiny body. I remember how your arms and legs seemed so long, just like your daddy. I remember your tiny, perfect fingers with their finger nails. I remember the kind nurse who took pictures of you for us. I remember being moved to a recovery room and your daddy going to get tamales and ice cream. The owner of the tamale place prayed for us with your daddy. I remember holding your cold body one last time before we left the hospital. It was so hard to know I could never hold you again. I'd held you for 5 months inside me, and now I'd never get to hold you any more. I listened to your memorial service again this week. Your daddy found the CD as we were packing up stuff to move yet again. I scrambled last minute to find scripture and songs for the service. The church played every song I suggested and read every scripture I had picked. I love you so much, Donna Rose. I will always remember.
Love,
Mommy
