January 11, 2013
My Sweet Nora,
You were with me for 284 days. 40 weeks and 4 days. That's how long I got to spend time with you alive. That's how long I got to be with you as your mother; as a mother. You see sometimes, Nora, I don't know if I am still a mom. I will always be your mother and you will always be my first child and daughter. But it just seems like it was all a dream. It seems as if that night in the hospital, that horrible night that they told me your heart had stopped beating, that is when someone woke me up from my fantastic, wonderful, joyful dream of being a mom, of being pregnant with you, Nora. In that moment, my dream ended and it turned into my worst nightmare.
They sent me home from the hospital without my baby, without you, Nora, and back to January of last year, of 2012. Nothing had changed; there was not a baby. It was all a cruel joke it seemed.
Oh, how I was scared to bring you home, but I was ready for the challenge, the love, to get to know you--a person outside of me and not just in. I bet you are wondering how beautiful you are.
You were so beautiful. Your most charming features were your full, luscious lips. So prominent, so poised. You had the cutest little nose which I was proud of because I have a big one and the chubbiest checks. Your eyes seemed big and your eyebrows were thin and perfectly arched. Your ears looked like mine, which are kind of weird looking, but no worries, that never caused me any grief. And most amazing of all, your head was full of brown hair! I was so proud, your dad and I never had hair when we were born and I didn't have hair until I was three (ask your grandma). You had a dimple chin and your father's eyelashes. You seemed to be the perfect combination of your dad and me. Your hands and feet were perfect as well with all ten fingers and toes, and you had my fingernails. Oh, you were a bigger baby then expected, 8lbs, 5oz, and 21 inches long. I don't know how you got so big my darling. But you were beautiful.
I have to admit, I loved your nose from day one, when I saw your side profile on the sonogram, and my favorite picture of you is still that sonogram photo. You were so full of life, I remember you moving around on the screen that day. You even stuck your tongue out at me. I think you would have been a sassy little girl, well because your my daughter, but also because you were a kicker and a puncher. You moved around all the time inside me. I miss that now. I miss your kicks and rolls, and jabs. Everyone would always ask, is she moving? And I would proudly say, "Oh, yeah, all the time." So it is so surprising that one day it all stopped.
I'm sorry Nora for whatever caused your death, but know sweet, baby girl, that I was with you the entire time, so was your dad. The day you left us, I believe we were all together, you were never alone, and you were surrounded by love in my belly. Knowing that I never left your side for one minute of your short life helps me cope. It helps me realize I did what a mom is supposed to do, care for you through birth and death. I just was only hoping that my death would be the time that we parted, not yours.
I have many wishes and dreams for you, Nora, and I love, love, love, writing and saying your name. But the one wish that I will never know, that I will leave you with tonight, is that I wish I could have seen your beautiful eyes. I wish our eyes would have met in this world. I wounder if they looked like mine, bluish gray, or if they looked like your dad's brown with specks of green. I will never know, Nora, and this tears me up inside.
I hope wherever you are, honey, that you are at peace, and please know that your daddy and I love and miss you so very much.
It just doesn't seem real.
Love Always and Forever,