Friday, April 13, 2012

Time is a Crazy Thing

Dear Brynna,

Good morning, sweet girl.  I miss you.  I love you and I miss you.  So very much.

The other day, I had a realization.  All the clothes that are hanging up in your closet and filling the drawers in your beautiful room, would be too small for you now.  No longer would you be fitting into the 0-3 month sleepers, dresses and leggings.  You, my darling, are nearly 6 months old!!  If you had followed in the footsteps of your wonderful brothers, you would also be out of the 3-6 month clothes and into the 6-9 month stuff.

It was a funny realization to have, because in so many regards, time has completely stopped for your Daddy and I.  Since the day you died and our hearts broke, time (for us) has really been a strange thing.

Somehow, since that time, we have experienced Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, spring break and Easter.  I’d be lying if I said I really, truly experienced, celebrated, or enjoyed any of them.  There were moments of happiness in some of them, but none of them were what they used to be.  Because no matter how many people are there, or how much great food is prepared, you are still missing.   And our hearts ache for you.

So many times, I still feel stuck in October.  I wish it were still October 25th.  I remember that day so well.  I had gone to the doctor for a routine “you’re overdue so we have to watch you closely” appointment.  I was not worried that you were past your due date.  All the boys had been too, and I was confident you would come when you were ready.  The exam that day came back normal, as did the non stress test.  You were doing great inside of my tummy.  On the ultrasound you looked as beautiful as ever, just camping out in there, waiting to make your grand entrance.  And I was okay waiting for you.

The nurse practitioner had concerns though.  They said the amniotic fluid seemed too low, and although your umbilical cord was organized neatly in front of your tummy, they said there was an increased risk for cord compression.  As a result they wanted to induce me that day.

I was so heartbroken.  I did not want to be induced.  I was induced with Colton and Jackson, and those labors were very long and painful.  Aidan was overdue too, but he came on his own and much, much faster.  I wanted so badly to give you the opportunity to come on your own too.  I was okay waiting.  I loved being pregnant with you.  I loved feeling you inside my tummy moving around.  Oh, how I miss feeling you move around.  Now all I have to remind me that you were there at all is this horrible scar.

I remember calling your Dad to tell him that we would be induced that day.  I remember telling him I was scared and I did not want it to happen this way.  I called your Grandparents too.  After I got over my initial fear, I realized, either way, we were going to get to meet you, and I began to get really excited.

I headed home from the OB’s office to get the stuff we would need in the hospital.  I called some friends and got it figured out who would be meeting your brothers when they got off the bus that day after school. 

Then I went around the house, straightening things up for when we would be coming home with you a few days later.  I waited for your Dad to get there so we could head to the hospital together.  I went into your room and sat down on the bed and thought about you.  I was so excited to meet you.  I was so excited to bring you home and show you what we created for you.  A beautiful purple, green, cream and black nursery.  Perfectly planned and laid out for our special little girl.  The last thing I did before we left was turn on the wipe warmer so that it would be all ready for you when we came home.  Then, off we went, your Daddy and I, to the hospital to meet you.

That is when we unknowingly started down the path that was going to change our life in ways we could have never imagined.

I wish it were still October 25th.  I wish I could still feel you moving inside of me.  I wish you could still hear your Daddy’s voice talking to you through my belly.  I wish I could see my belly move over and over again while you had the hiccups.  I wish it were still October 25th.  Oh, how I wish it were still October 25th.

But it’s not.

It somehow is nearly 6 months later.  It is somehow April 13th.

Time is a crazy, messed up thing.  Where has it gone?  Where has nearly 6 months gone?  Where have I been?  Will I ever see the me that I knew for 32 years?  Or is she gone too?

We miss you, Brynna.  I miss you as much today as I did on November 1st when you went to heaven.  More, probably.  Because in the nearly 6 months that have passed, the shock of losing you has dulled a bit, and that shock has been replaced by the pain of how permanent this situation is.  That pain is indescribable.  That pain is something no mother or father should have to experience.  It doesn’t make sense that nearly 6 months ago, we lost our beautiful, perfectly healthy, perfectly grown, daughter.  Where has the time gone?

Time is a crazy, messed up thing.

I love you sweet, Brynn.  And Daddy and the boys love you.  We love you so much bigger than the distance between us right now, and we will continue loving you more and more.  You are in every thought, every experience, every day, all the time.


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