Monday, July 29, 2013

Letters to Nora - I'm Sorry I Failed You.

July 16th, 2013

Dear Sweet Nora,

I’m sorry, Nora, that I failed you as a mother. I failed to bring your sweet, healthy body into this world protected and alive. I feel as if I have failed on the highest level. I couldn’t protect my own child, while she was INSIDE of me! What kind of mother can’t even do that? A part of me knows I didn’t fail. A part of me knows it’s not my fault. But last night I had the best and worst dream.

I dreamt that I could feel you inside of me again. I could feel your strong kicks and bouncy life force moving and jabbing around. In the dream I placed my hand on my belly as I was so happy to feel you there, and when I went to touch you through my skin. You were gone. My stomach flat and deflated. I didn’t understand. How could this be.

Maybe sometimes I still don’t understand. I can’t comprehend “how could this be?” But once I felt my flat belly and looked down and saw the lack of pregnancy bump, I knew I was dreaming. I guess if it’s awake or asleep, dreaming is all I can do with you anymore. Dream about what could have been, what should have been, and what was for a tiny moment, for what seemed like a blink of an eye. 

I’m so sorry, Nora! I’m so sorry that I failed you as only a mother can. I hear you in the back of my mind crying, screaming, “Mommy! Don’t think that way. You didn’t fail! You were the best mom I could have ever had.” But it’s so hard not to feel guilty, even though there is nothing to feel guilty about. It’s so hard not to feel responsible, even though there is nothing I could have done to save you. And maybe that is why. That is why things are so hard. Because there was nothing I could do. I was powerless to Mother’s Natures malice and destruction. You know, Mother Nature is so wicked, I don’t think she deserves to be referred to as a “mother” any more. For a true mother would never destroy her own child, as she destroyed you, as she destroyed me.

I miss you, Nora. Still do. Some might not understand and wonder, "It’s been six months, why isn’t she over this?” The reality is, I don’t think I’ll ever get over this. It just is now. And sometimes it’s hard to get used to.

Again, I miss you, Nora. More than ever. I hope you are well.

Love Always & Forever,



  1. You will NEVER forget. Not EVER. It doesn't get "better"; we don't "get over" it. To hell with anyone who thinks different. May they never know the sadness, the emptiness, the darkness of our grief.

  2. How dare anyone tell you what your grieving should look like! Grief is an individual, never ending process. I think you are an amazing mother and a gentle example for those who have suffered a loss.

  3. I'm sure you've read this since I found it on a blog you contribute too, but it helped me a ton the other day. I've blamed myself a lot since my daughter died from Group B Strep, which should be preventable.


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