Happy Birthday My Love

Dearest Harper,

Today marks four years since you crept into the world in a deafening silence. No cry, not a single breath, just silence so loud that it could shatter glass, and hearts. I remember those moments as if they were only yesterday, how could one not, the memory of you burnt into my brain as it were branded in with a hot iron. You. Were. Beautiful.

I held you, for hours, memorizing every inch of you, from your cap of black curly hair to how your fingers were long and slender, and perfect. It has been four years since I handed you over to our nurse for the last time. I watched her wheel you down the hall, and I thought to myself, how does anyone survive this? I watched the nurses take a piece of my soul, and I handed it over willingly because I had no other option. How does a mother survive giving back her child?

It has been four years since you died, since my heart was broken, and piece of me went with you. I understand that unless you have been through the loss of a child yourself, you don’t fully grasp the concept of the amount of grief a mother is burdened with.  It is an insurmountable task to overcome; in all honesty, a mother never gets over it. No matter what the reports from tests say, you feel some fault, some sort of failure because that is what your body is made for, to grow and nurture, and birth a child, and when your body fails you, and you lose a child, it is a sea of feelings you must wade through. Even the fathers of the babies lost do not quite understand what is happening in your head and heart, the battle that rages within.

Often, people ignore the subject because it is so taboo to talk about the baby that died. It is, at times, the elephant in the room that is seemingly invisible. I have watched as people tip toe around it, ignore it completely, and then there are those who have no comprehension of how far you’ve come in your journey and they criticize you for still being sad, even four years later. I am the first to tell you, I have more good days than bad, and those bad days are few and far between because I finally allowed myself to relish in the happiness of my little family, even if it is incomplete without you. But, I still have bad days, because I miss you. I would question my own self if this ever changed. I will always miss you because the heart wants what it wants and it wants you to be here so it can be complete again.

Criticizing grief is like throwing an anchor to a person who is already drowning

RaeAnn Fredrickson

I have my moments, we all do. My heart aches when I realize that I won’t ever hear your first word, see your first steps, or ever see you dance in a recital with your sisters. It leaves room for many moments of pondering. Wondering what your hair would look like, what your tiny voice would sound like, what your favorite show would be, would you like pirates like your baby sister? It is in these moments that a pang hits my heart because I miss you. And I realize that I will always be left with those things to wonder about. But this is my life; this is the path that has been chosen for me to walk down. Someone had to be the one in one million.

I have come a long way in the last four years. I went from being unable to escape my bed, to being unable to escape irrational fears of losing your sister, to watching your siblings grow into these beautiful little people, and being able to ENJOY it, it is something I never thought I would find again. I never thought that I would be able to be happy again. You showed me the way back to happiness, a way to honor your memory while still living my life. You guided me to where I am at today, helping me to find the silver lining in all the storm clouds that are sent my way. Last year RAK for Harper went international, and people all around the world took a moment to do a random act of kindness for someone in your honor. This made your birthday so meaningful. To know your name, your tiny life was celebrated all over the world. What mother would not be proud?

It is unbelievable that four years have passed since I last kissed the top of your head and breathed deeply your scent, whispering all those I love yous in your ear. I have so many things I never had the chance to tell you because I was riddled with the wounds of grief. I will settle for being able to tell you here. I love you Harper, more than words written could ever explain. You will always be my daughter, and that love will never change. I feel very lucky to have had the chance to be your mom.

If I had one wish for your birthday, it would be to send you all the love and kisses I have missed out on giving you over the last four years. One day, I can only hope that I get that chance.

Happy Birthday my sweet girl, I love you and I miss you.

Love,

Mommy

Time does not heal all

Dear Harper,

It has been a while since I have written to you, not because I didn't want to write but because words would get jumbled and I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted to say. These letters I write are important and I don't ever want the message to get lost  in a mess of words.

It has been nearly four years since I had to say hello and goodbye in the same moment. Four years have passed in what feels like the blink of an eye. How has this much time passed since I held you in my arms for the only time, given mere moments to last me a lifetime? That, I cannot answer.

What I can answer is that nearly four years later I am still learning to live without you. Life continues to go on and I have had to learn how to continue on. The piece of my heart that went with you is still missing, but yet I still stand here before the world, breathing, even if only barely some days.

They say time heals all wounds but THIS IS A LIE. Time does not heal a wound that is soul-deep. What time does is teach you how to live WITH it. I have you on my mind all the time, carrying you with me as I walk this path. This journey is not one I would wish upon even my worst enemy because it is the hardest storm I have ever weathered. You learn how to live your life with this big gaping hole that never heals. This becomes your new normal, if normal can even exist in your lexicon. You do go on, but it is with new eyes, fresh lenses that show you what the world is worth, the beauty, sadness, reality and ugliness to it all.

You are no longer naive, you begin to see the ugly truths in the world, hidden amongst the shadows. For me, your sister came along very shortly after you, and this brought on a whole new view of having a baby. I cherished every second that I was pregnant, rarely slept, went completely natural during my pregnancy for fear that something would happen to her too.Everything scared me, made me nervous and I could barely think about anything else.  I couldn't fight that battle twice, I couldn't lose a second time. I was scared the whole time. And when she was born, I was scared because something might happen while I slept...so I never slept at night. I slept when others were keeping a very close eye on her. I don't think I slept a single night her entire first year and now...she's going to be three. Was it my pained vigilance that kept her here? I don't know but I wouldn't change it for a second. There are so many things in my past I would change but not who I was once you were gone.

Here we are, nearly four years later, and I am still learning how to cope, how to breathe, how to live without you. I have been working on ideas for your birthday. I am still promoting those random acts of kindness in your honor. I speak your name louder than ever before, because every time I don't, a little piece of you dies which means a little piece of me dies. And we can't have that. The world will know your name and it will echo on the whispers of the wind.

 I do not let your death define me. I do not let your death occupy all of my emotions and thoughts. I do not let your death control me. While some days are hard, when I realize that I will never think about getting papers together for you to start school, or if you would take ballet with your sisters, I can find a quiet peace in knowing that YOU WERE REAL. Your tiny foot left an imprint so deep no one could forget it. I rejoice in knowing you at all. There is beauty in that. Your death opened my eyes wider and brighter than they have ever been.

Some day, I will understand the pain that has been given to me in your loss. Until then, I keep breathing, keep walking, keep writing, in hopes that I can help someone else that is grieving their child. So they can begin to see that there is beauty in suffering, that GREAT things come from a great loss. You, my sweet bean, are doing greater things than I could have ever imagined.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain, when you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. ~Haruki Murakami

I love you darling girl,

I miss you,

Mommy

Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS but she IS NOT, all at once. She is here but part of her is elsewhere for eternity. ~Unknown

There is no way and there never was

Dear Harper,

I have been writing to you for some time now. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I went to college to be a writer. For nearly 16 years I have been eating, sleeping, and breathing writing. It has waxed and waned over that course. Months of writers block setting in, no words to type, no pencil to paper.

I waited ten months, ten long months to write to you again. It is not because I don't love you, but because the words were escaping me. I let them disappear. It had died inside of me and I was waiting for a rebirth. It happens from time to time. My purpose has always been to tell you things you need to know so that maybe one day I can help someone who is weathering the storm set before them.

It was nearly thirteen years ago when I stepped foot onto campus the first time with big dreams of being an entertainment journalist. Things seemed promising. But that was not my destiny. For a while I thought that my dream had escaped me. That I had let it get away by being a 20 year old that had better things to do that my course work. Oh how wrong I was. The best is always yet to be.

I never write for me anymore, it's always for you. While writing relieves a certain amount of emotion that builds up, it isn't for me. I always dreamt, even from the start, that my words would move someone. Empower them. Encourage them to become the person they were born to be. I believe I was born to be a writer, though my words never set forth that encouragement, only strung me along the way. Atta girls coming from time to time.

I spend lots of time writing to you in my head, sometimes my finger never touch the keys. But please believe, that when they do it is nothing but heart felt, gut wrenching emotion pouring out from them. Do not pity me for they are not always sad tears. In fact, often times they are tears of absolute joy that I got to know you at all. For that, I am thankful. You have carried me without even being here.

As your birthday approaches, my heart saddens, a loss that I will never get over. Time does not make it easier but I learn to move forward, never forgetting but using you as a catalyst to help others, to soothe their pain and to relate to their sorrows.

While losing you brought me the most wretched heartache, it also brought a breath of life into my soul. Empowering ME to become the person I am today. So I wanted to be a writer...and thanks to you I finally feel like one.

I love you sweet bean.

Love always, with a heart full of new wonder and excitement,

Mommy

I leave you with this sweet darling, it has inspired my life in so many ways. I thought I had a rocket exploding from me, a lioness roaring the words out, but I was wrong. You were my rocket sweet love, and for that, I thank you.

So You Want To Be A Writer

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.

and there never was.

~Charles Bukowski

so you want to be a writer?

  by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16549#sthash.jluerwyL.dpuf

Survival of the Weakest

Dear Harper,

It has been 10 months since I last wrote to you, I haven't had the words. It is surreal to be approaching your third birthday. And in this moment I feel words pouring from my heart.

Ten months, so many things can shift and so many things can change. Life has kept me on my toes. I woke up, like an epiphany. I realized that I had been floating through life this last decade, not really ever coming or going. No plan of action in place, which is not like me. I always have a plan, I am a planner. I have been waking up, breathing, then going back to bed. Sure, there is activity in between but days began to meld into one another, weeks and months pass but no real concept of time because every day was the same mundane schedule. I was surviving, nothing more.

What does it mean? Surviving?

sur·vive  

/sərˈvīv/

Verb Continue to live or exist, esp. in spite of danger or hardship. Continue to live or exist in spite of (an accident or ordeal). In the last decade, I have been broke, I have been exhausted, I have been sad, I have been happy, I have hurt in ways unimaginable. I ran the gambit of emotions. But all in all, I just survive. I manage to make it to my next breath, my next moment. Waiting for that divine intervention to tell me what I needed to do. Months came and went. Then March came, I realized then that I am barely treading to keep my head above the water. I am a fighter, I had kept my head out of the water for 10 years. I was tired and I felt the surface beginning to hit my nose, I needed more than just surviving. Everyone said it was you, that losing you broke me. It wasn't you, it was before that. I am not sure exactly when I went from being who I was to this weak version of me. I have always been a fighter, and strong willed, and opinionated. It is who your dad fell in love with and who I had lost touch with.   Much of what your father fell in love with can be acredited to the fact that I am a Leo. My August birthday brought many things with it. Leos are usually generous, warmhearted,creative, enthusiastic, broad-minded, expansive, faithful, and loving. I can also be pompous, patronizing, bossy, dogmatic, and intolerant.Often my faults can be as large in scale as my virtues. I used to be such an optimist, seeing the silver lining in everything. But something shifted as the years passed, the older I got I became increasingly pessimistic. I became an overly negative person with an excessive temper. I saw this shift as weakness, angry at myself for becoming soft and soft spoken. So I went into survival mode, quick temper, flaring at most everything. So much so that even your brother and sister were afraid of me. No one wants to know that their own children are scared of them. And in this discovery I began shutting down, shutting out most everything and everyone.  So I decided to shake things up...      My mom has said I am the one who likes to shake things up. So I took the snow globe that is life and shook it as hard as I could, until all the little pieces shook loose and I watched as they fell back to the bottom. This moment of weakness, this moment of no regrets and no consequences was exactly what my life needed.  I am still watching the little pieces of snow fall into place, but I am happier than I have ever been. As these little pieces fall into place, I find moments of weakness, moments of pure strength and will, moments of absolute madness, and then there are moments of pure bliss. All of them lead to one thing, an enlightened heart, an opened mind, and a free spirit. There have been a lot of tears over the last few months, there have been laughs, and silence. They are all rebuilding me. If shaking the proverbial snow globe has done anything for me, it has shown me that emotions do not make you weak, they make you human. I feel alive again, my heart is pumping and I am seeing the world with new eyes, with a heart that is slowly being pieced back together with a new found ability to communicate openly and honestly. It was a grand delusion to believe that I was ever weak. Never, and I mean NEVER, allow yourself to believe that you are weak because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And I am stronger by the day. I love you sweet bean, Love, Mommy

Loving, even when I am broken

Dear Harper,

I've been sad lately. Really really sad. That's the only way to describe it. At first I thought it was  your approaching birthday, which that plays an integral role in all things in my life but it was just something I couldn't put my fingers on, I couldn't grasp what was causing this gaping wound of sadness deep inside me.

It's the intense need to be loved. It's the intense need for time to slow almost to a halt. Birdie just turned one, where is the time going? Your baby sister loves more intensely than I have seen in a while. Your big sister and brother have amazing hearts and would give you all the love in the world, but there is just something about her, a love that emanates from her like light from a bulb. 

When I was young I hid the part of myself that loved openly, I hid my heart away from those who could damage it. I cut throats and asked questions later, I thought that was how you survived and it worked for me for a while. After you, it's all about the give and take. It's about giving yourself wholly to someone when they need you and expecting that they will be there when you fall. I have never had many people like this, and after you, I gave my heart away, I loved freely and trusted freely. I still only let few in, I count them among my family.

Today, I sit here before you and the only word that can describe me at the moment is broken. I feel broken, like a chunk of my heart and soul is gone. I've made mistakes that possibly will never be forgiven. But it makes the pain no less. I still love openly, freely. I admit my faults here. I am but a human and all humans make errors in judgement.

When you fall in love with a man, you tell them they are your best friend but the truth is, a friendship with a woman is much more than all the things you tell your significant other. A friendship that is not based out of physical attraction is of more importance. You tell this person everything, you confide in them, you lean on them, you love them more openly and honestly and more intimately in ways that are different from that of a spouse or significant other. When these relationships end they leave you more raw and wanting that a break up. They rock you to your very core, they put your body through a whole different type of grieving experience than the standard "break up" or divorce does. I have had my fair share of those typical boyfriend break ups. I have never had someone that I loved so wholly leave me like this. The grief I am feeling is almost as much as I felt when I lost you.

I feel exhausted, I feel like someone reached in and ripped my heart right out. I find myself mourning this loss, like an extension of my body has shriveled up and died. I finally felt like I was breathing again, like I was starting to learn how to live without you. I have laughed harder and loved more intensely than I have in a long time but then like a smack in the face, this bomb drops right on me and I am left standing in the middle of the disaster zone picking up pieces. I am at fault for this, I understand completely but it makes the pain no less. I don't understand how to process these feelings.  It is moments like this realization that I am almost thankful you didn't have to go through all the hurts, pain and struggles life can throw at you. I would have loved for you to know the love and joy that can be found here, like Heaven on Earth but I would not want you to have to suffer the sorrows that are wrecking me right now.

I am me, still standing here, breathing even if only barely. You can take me for who I am or you can leave me. I love wholly and freely for those who are worthy of it. I protect my friends like they are my own, flesh of my flesh. I trust too far, I love too much and I give to often, but that's me. You can take me or leave me, but even when you leave me, when you look in the rear view, I'll still be standing there.

I am thankful you will never have to go through this. I love you Bean. I miss you.

Love always,

Mommy

The LBD Part 2

Dear Harper,

Things have been crazy but please know that I have not forgotten you. You are always in mind, especially as July comes nearer. I took a hiatus from writing, waiting for the words. You know I don't want to feel forced.

I wish you were here. You've had to watch from afar all the things you should be here for. Your sister's recital just happened. It was her first one, and what she wouldn't have given to have you there. You were there in spirit though, I felt you there.

I was rushing around the house all morning. I snatched Brianna out of bed and rushed her to Sammi so she could get her hair and make up done for recital. We had to be there no later than 12:30 so we were on a time crunch. Her hair and make up were so beautiful but I was still in my pajamas! We walked in the door, pulled Brianna's first outfit on and I went to get my hair and make up together. I only had 30 minutes to get ready.

Your grandma bought me a dress to wear, a cute black and white dress, shoes to match. It was going to be perfect, only when I put it on I felt miserable. I looked in the mirror, scoffing at the image looking back. My hair was good, my make up was as good as it could get for the rush but something was just off about the dress.

I quickly made my way to my room, to dig for ANYTHING else to wear. I tried on shoes with the dress Grandma bought but was still not happy. I put on a hundred things with it and just nothing suited me. I didn't want to even go at this point, I had 5 minutes to get dressed and out the door. I sat on the edge of the bet, almost pouting, almost sobbing.

I stared at the closet begging it to give me an idea, ANY inspiration. And there it was...the little black dress. I shimmied out of the clothes that I had on and quickly slipped it over my head. It was a bit loose but I felt wonderful putting it on. It clings to all the right spots, loose in all the others, gives me a nice neckline. It fits perfect. I had to wear flip flops with it because my heels were nowhere to be found, turns out that it was perfect.

Nothing felt better than walking out the door in that little black dress. Grandma eyed me suspiciously but she understood when I gave her the look. We took our seats at the recital and it was almost as if I could tell you were there watching her, giving her the confidence to get on stage.

The last couple of weeks and the next couple are the hardest ones every year. Life without you has gone on in a way but there is always a spot where you should be. An emptiness that can't be filled. My heart has this shadow where you fit, and while you're there it's not the way I want it, but is it ever?

Thank you sweet Bean for pointing out that dress again. I miss you, I love you.

Love you Harper. Always and forever. Until we meet again, I will keep writing.

Love,

Mommy

Little Black Dress

Dear Harper,

Sunday your baby sister turned 11 months old. How can this be? I was just holding you, I was just about to turn 28 and now here I am, about to turn 30 and you would be about to turn 2. Life is flashing away before my eyes. My friend Sarah in Texas said she calls it "2nd year blues" and I think she is right. Her son, Max and you share a birthday.

Sunday was also International Bereaved Mother's Day and it was River's birthday. My heart was laden with love and prayers for Deanna that the day would be easy on her.  What a day already...We were going to spend the day with Sammi & Mallory for our standing date Sunday. I got in the car to go and "She Talks to Angels" by the Black Crowes was on the radio...fitting.

Our friends, Elisha and Daniel, welcomed their second child into the world on Sunday as well, sweet baby Mason. I had gotten the text that her water had broken before we left to go to Sammi's but she was having trouble with labor stopping and so on. I thought it would be Monday before he was born,I was determined to go see her when he was born, that's what friends do, they see each other when their babies are born...they see each other when they die too. Daniel came to see us at the funeral home instead of a hospital with you.

I was looking for something to wear to the hospital. I had been with Sammi & Mallory all day, I had on my old sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt, unacceptable to wear to the hospital. My jeans were in the laundry and it was turning out to just be one of those days where none of my clothes were fitting right...it was a sweat pants day. Sammi was keeping the girls so I could go down and see Mason (and his momma) and I had to find something to wear.

Your daddy sat on the bed in our room watching me filter through everything in the laundry basket and everything in my dresser, even my yoga pants were dirty. I finally gave up and went to the closet, I thought I might be able to find something in there. I did...I found a hefty serving of heartache.

As I was slipping my fingers over the hangers and moving them from the left to the right looking to see what I had that I could wear to the hospital I saw something black in the very back that I hadn't remembered seeing there all the countless times I looked in there. I move everything to the right so I can pull it out, wondering what it is, only to find that it was the dress I wore to your funeral...a little black dress.

The dress had been purchased, I remember the day I bought it, with the intent to wear to your baby shower. We were doing something elegant for you, something like a tea and I wanted to wear a nice dress. It hung in Kaden's closet forever, because I was living in his room while you were in my belly, I wasn't allowed to do stairs. I bought it the same day that Mom bought the invitations to your shower. So much hope, so much intention.

I held the hanger up, the dress hangs solemnly off of it. I turn it and look at the front and back as tears fall down my face. It was like watching all the intentions of that little black dress fall to the floor. The song "Lightning Crashes" by Live was running through my brain. I felt it through my whole body. I hung the dress back in the closet and stood there, staring at it. My heart was beating sporadically because I wasn't expecting something so small to do so much to me...but then again you were so small and took my heart.

Sunday, it's a day of rest, and for me it was a day of mourning, a day of rejoicing, a day of sorrow and a day of joy. That little black dress left me in a daze and thrown for a loop...I cried all the way to the hospital to see Mason.Second year blues seems so fitting...

Terrible twos aren't just for babies anymore are they?

Time goes on and I can breathe, and I can function without but Sunday...the grief just washed me in a stain of black...a veil of grief. I love you Bean, I miss you so much.

Love always,

Mommy

Fear....less

Dear Harper,

It's funny, we are approaching 22 months since you left my arms. You would think that the longer you are gone the easier it would be for me to live. That's not the case,  I am fearful that I won't remember your smell, your face, you tiny hands and feet. I am fearful that I will forget what you felt like in my arms.

These fears make the pain magnified. It makes my chest want to implode because it is hard to breathe, it hurts, it makes my heart work twice as hard to beat. It is in these moments when I hold my head up and realize that I can move on, that the fears are invalid. I look at pictures and see your face. I can hold your blanket when I  need to remember your scent.  It is forever engrained into my soul, the way you smelled. Like newborn baby, before a bath and that standard pink baby lotion combined to make the most heavenly smell, your scent. Yours and yours alone. None of your siblings smelled like that, it is only you. I forget often, just how light you were in my arms. I see the tiny clothes on the wall in my house and remember just how small and fragile you were. Life flashes before my eyes, all those moments with you played out again, my heart stops, even if just for that moment.

I let the tears fall freely for you. To stop them makes the pain worse. To hinder them is like trying to hide my love for you. The more days that pass the more those fears arise in me. I really thought things would be easier this year and they are not. I think it is because I am watching your baby sister do all the things you should be doing. I am overjoyed because I get to be excited for her milestones, but also saddened because I am missing yours.

I wanted you so bad. I want you before I knew I had you. I loved you with every ounce of my being the moment that test said "pregnant". I loved you while I laid in the hospital, in labor with you, knowing you weren't coming home. I love you still, I love you like you are here. I am so scared that I am going to forget all of the things from your birth. All the pain, the heartache but also the joy because you were so perfect and beautiful.

The fear of forgetting makes the pain ten fold. You won't ever let me forget though, you are always here by my side, in the good times and the bad, you are here, never letting me forget how much I love you. I see you everyday in your sister's smile, or Birdie's giggle. I love you Bean, never forget that.

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.

Eleanor Roosevelt

I love you, always & forever.

Mommy