Three Years

Today marks the three year anniversary of Donna Rose's death and birth. Some of the details fade, but some remain so clear in my mind. I remember walking down the stairs the evening before and telling Ben that our plans for the evening were changing, that I needed to go to the hospital rather than bible study. I remember how worried the ultrasound tech seemed, even though I wasn't shown the ultrasound until after the doctor arrived. I remember how truly AWFUL it seemed to me that the hospital would offer to "terminate" my baby. And that was a decision I was given, not once but twice. I remember how difficult it was for me when I had been flown down to Denver and Ben was still on the road, how the doctors wanted me to make life and death decisions and I wanted to talk to Ben, but couldn't reach him because I didn't know his phone number and he had MY phone and wasn't answering it. I remember picking the option with the best mathematical odds. I remember the doctor telling me that if I went into labor, they wouldn't do anything to stop it. I remember calling my parents and hearing my mother's voice for the first time since I told my dad that I was pregnant. I remember the awful peace I had when I knew that I was having contractions and that my baby was not going to live beyond the day. I remember feeling so helpless and being so grateful for the pain because it was easier to deal with the physical hurt than the emotional hurt of losing my little girl. I remember someone telling me they could see my little girl kick as she was being born (she was breach) though I don't remember who. I remember being told she was stillborn because her heart wasn't beating and I would never get to hold her in my arms while she was alive. I remember the wonderful nurse (I wish I knew her name) who took pictures of Donna Rose for Ben and me so that we would always have precious memories.  She posed Donna Rose so that she looked like she was sleeping. I remember getting a call from Medicaid telling me that I had finally been approved, and having to tell them that I was losing the baby. I remember holding Donna Rose for the last time, how cold she was. I remember going to the funeral home and how compassionate the gentleman was when we explained our situation. I remember Ben making the decision to have our daughter cremated. I hated the idea of having my daughter burnt and knowing that I could never hold her again, but we couldn't stand the thought of leaving her behind if we moved. There are so many other memories, but I will save them for another time. Happy Angelversary, my dear daughter! Daddy and I miss you very much.

Once more

My Dear Daughter,

Here we are coming up on the second anniversary of your birth and death. It's still very painful for your daddy and me. Two years ago today, I went into the ER in Greeley, a little bit worried because of spotting, but never dreaming that it could mean your death. I remember the worried looks from the nurses and doctors. I remember the cold helicopter ride to Denver. And I remember the pain of everything that happened the next day there. In a couple of years, we will have to explain to your little brother why October 28 is such a special day. I remember so many things about that day clearly. I remember talking to your Grandma Donna on the phone. I remember the sheer exhaustion from being up all night. I remember the pain and the mental numbness of that night. I remember the sense of dread, knowing that I wouldn't get to take my baby home with me. I remember holding you for the first time and how very tiny you were. I remember marveling over how perfectly formed you were. I remember your body heaving in my hands as though you were trying to breathe, but the doctors said your heart had stopped before you were born. I remember dressing you in the little clothes they gave us and wrapping you in the blanket someone had made for you. What a blessing to us was the care that someone took to make clothes and blankets for an angel they would never meet. I remember crying with your daddy. I remember talking to your Aunt Miranda on the phone and the heartbreak in her voice when I told her you wouldn't make it. I remember feeling like I had to comfort her because she sounded so much sadder than I did, but the finality of your death hadn't hit yet. And I remember talking to your Aunt Beth, though I don't remember what she had to say.

I think your daddy and I are learning to live around our grief pretty well. Fewer things make us sad and we can rejoice in the miracle of your short life now. However, we miss you deeply and your absence causes us both a deep pain. As long as we live, you will never be forgotten.

Love always,

Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

My dear daughter,

Mommy and Daddy are missing you something fierce today. Yesterday a song on the CD for the July 4th parade float your daddy rode made him cry. He came home all sad and played it for me and we both just sobbed until your little brother started crying because we weren't paying attention to him. It's such a relief when he cries because we know that he's breathing then. A lot of people have been asking me if your brother is my first baby. I always tell them about you. I love your brother very much, but that doesn't keep me from missing you. Yesterday Daddy's boss took his little girl by the hand to walk her to the back yard and it made me very sad thinking that your daddy should be taking you by the hand to walk you to where you can play with your friends. Tomorrow we are driving up to Aberdeen to visit with your grandma and grandpa. It will be a fun family reunion, but it would be even more enjoyable if you were there. The stair-step age grandkids has a hole in it because you aren't here to fill it. Your cousins are one year apart in age until your cousin Ric. Then there's a gap where you should have been born and an extra year before your cousin Caspian and your brother. We will probably go out to Storybook Land and the lake or the water park. Your brother can't enjoy them yet, but you are old enough so that if you were here you could definitely enjoy them. I imagine that you have even more entertaining and important things to do in heaven. I just wish we could share the special times together.

I love you, Donna Rose.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

My dear daughter,

Daddy told you that your new brother has arrived and he is here safely. I wonder what you would think of him if you were here now. I wonder if you would be jealous as my brother was jealous of me. You would still be little more than a baby yourself, but I think you would be very excited to be a big sister. I am certain you would adore little Tony and would try to be Mommy's helper. I miss you every day. I know Daddy does too. Sometimes we find each other crying because we miss you so much. You are a hero, my little girl. You saved your brother's life. Because of you, we knew what to do to get your brother here safely and we know what to do for any future siblings. The doctors have diagnosed me with an incompetent cervix, which means I will always need help to carry babies to full term. We would never have known if not for you, my dear. I wish we had known before you were born because then we could have you both here with us. I love you, honey, and am so grateful for your brief life.

Mommy

To my little angel

Dear Donna Rose,
    Your little brother is here with us now, and you aren't. It's not your fault you aren't, there's no blame to place. But we miss you. Every time I hear Arthur Anthony cry I hear you in there. I know I never heard a cry from your lungs, but I hear it in him. You're here with us, not in body but in spirit. Your brother will know of you even if he won't know you until we all meet after this life. I just wanted you to know we have not replaced you. We never could, nor would we want to. We love you and always will. But, we also love your brother, and will do so to honor your memory.
                                                                Love,
                                                                 Dad.

A letter to my daughter

Dear Donna Rose,

Right now, I am sitting in a hospital room waiting for your little brother to decide when he wants to come. This hospital room is only a little like the room they put me in when you were born. It's a much smaller room, but that's not a bad thing. The only people in here most of the time are the nurses and me. Sometimes the doctor comes by to have a chat and your daddy comes to visit when he isn't working. In your hospital room, There were at least three doctors and two nurses all the time. I was attached to monitors all the time and stuck in bed. Here, they attach monitors every 8 hours and check your brother's heart beat every 4 hours or so. I can't help but compare the differences between then and now. We were so sad in that room. In here, I have some roses your daddy gave me and one of our Donna Bears so that you will always be a part of your brother's life. Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I remember how hard last year's Mother's Day was. In church, they asked all mothers to stand up and I didn't know if that included me or not. I certainly didn't feel like a very GOOD mother. The ladies in church made me stand up too and I cried. Your daddy and I think about you all the time. We miss you so very much and wish you were here with us getting ready for your little brother to come.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

My dear daughter,

Today should have been your first birthday.  I should be baking you a cake, buying balloons and ice cream, and wrapping presents. We should have spent the day playing together, just celebrating getting through one year of your life. I miss you so much, my dear. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

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

Right Now

Today, you should be 6 months old.

You should be rolling all over the place.

You should be making your daddy run after you.

You should be smiling, giggling, and making cute sounds.

You should be eating soft foods, like cereal and 'nanas.

You should be playing on your back with toys hanging on a baby gym

But instead, you're spending the time in Heaven. You've been there a little more than 10 months, my dear. Perhaps you're starting to uncurl your baby wings. Maybe the angels sing you to sleep at night. And perhaps Jesus holds you and hugs you because Mommy can't just yet. It's so hard, my dear, to be left behind. There are days when I would give anything to change places with you because having you gone just hurts so much. Your daddy and I miss you and think about you every day. I wish we could see what you are like. How you grow and develop, if people do that kind of thing in Heaven. I love you, my little rose. 

How I'm feeling

Forgive me for turning away when you announced that you have a brand new baby in your life. I can't help it. Part of me is very happy for you, but a lot of me was hurt by your announcement. You see, I should have been able to announce MY brand new baby last March, but in October something dreadful happened. No one knows why. My baby was born too soon, and so I never got to take her home. All these firsts that you are experiencing, I didn't get to do. I had barely begun to feel her kick inside me before she was gone. I had to leave her at the hospital knowing I would never get to see her again. I kissed her tiny cold head and said goodbye. I will never see her first smile. I will never see her first step. I will never send her off to school for the first time, or help her pack to go to college. I will never see her first communion or her baptism. So, yes I am happy for you. But I'm also very devastated for me.

Dear Donna Rose

My darling daughter,

You're going to be tired of me telling you how much I miss you and how much I wish that I could hold you and nurture you and watch you grow. This week, your daddy decided you should not be alone on our memorial shelf for you, so he brought up your grandmother's ashes and put them next to yours. I never knew your Grandma Sophie, but your daddy tells me she was a wonderful lady. It made your daddy cry. In some ways, he has lost his past and part of his future so all that remains is the present. You were so small, darling, so fragile and innocent. We will never forget you and how you changed our lives.

Love,

Mommy