Moved

May 20, 2011 around 5 a.m.

Remembered

Dear Baby Allegra:

You've been gone 5 weeks.

Your adoring siblings always begged and argued to be the next person to hold you. For most of your life, I was that lucky person. Do you remember the feel of my arms like I remember the feel of yours?

Love,
Your Mom

Understood

A phantom limb is the sensation of feeling, sometimes painfully, the presence of a missing limb.

The last month was spent mentally readjusting to life without Baby Allegra. There is no longer a pressure to quickly return when I leave the house. No little bundle is waiting when I walk out of the bathroom. She's not sharing my pillow when I wake in the morning. And there is no weight on my lap as I write. Despite this month-old reality, I still find myself expecting her to be just out of sight.  Not gone.

Although phantom limbs cannot be removed, the associated pain is usually intermittent and is supposed to decrease over time.

Mourned

Dear Baby Allegra:

You've been gone 29 days.

Thankfully, you also lived 29 days.  In that time, you were in the hospital only 6 hours.  You spent 92 hours on oxygen. You ate less than an ounce at every feeding.  You were held by countless people and kissed infinite times. You had 6 blankets, 5 feeding syringes, 4 onesies, 3 car rides, 2 preemie pacifiers, yet only 1 known outcome.

I miss you.  So do the 5 other people in your family.

Love,

Your Mom

Soothed

A few nights ago, the boys and I visited Baby Allegra's grave.  As we left Cameron called out, "Good night Baby Allegra.  Don't let the bed bugs bite!  Have sweet dreams!"  

The same thing he says to Mitch and I every night as we tuck him into bed.

Mourned

Dear Baby Allegra:

You died 3 weeks ago today.

I prayed you away.  I loved you and wanted you, but watching you suffer was unbearable.

Now I miss you.

Love,
Your Mom

Mourned

When we met

Dear Baby Allegra:

You died 2 weeks ago today.

You were so little and our time together so short.  So why is this hole inside me so big?

Love,
Your Mom