My dear little angel,
You're dad left early to go on a business trip today. He'll be back later today, but this is my first day completely alone in the house. I've planned to meet a friend for lunch and am trying to find someone to meet for dinner, so that I'm not entirely alone.
This morning, I really felt like talking to someone about you. I called my dad, but he didn't pick up. I texted a friend and asked if I could call, but she didn't answer. I stopped in front of the mirror a few times today and looked at my belly. When I was pregnant, I didn't really like that I was getting 'fatter'. I always wanted flat abs, and being pregnant is the opposite of flat anything. But now, I miss my bump, I miss you. I feel sad that my stomach is getting back to its original size and that there are no signs that you were ever inside me.
Today, I noticed that my breasts, while still full, didn't leak with milk like they have in the past few days. The fuller breasts were painful but now I'm also sad that I'm losing that. I know it doesn't make much sense because you live in my heart and that will never go away. But I'm struggling with things going so quickly back to normal. Although I feel like I'm dealing with all this pretty well, that I'm being positive and all, I also like feeling the pain. I worry on days where the pain seems less intense.
Many of my friends and family have been saying that your dad and I are strong, that if it was them, they would be on the floor crying. I don't know what to think when I hear such a comment. As if we had the choice. What else are we supposed to do other than be strong? We need to be strong for each other, we need to be strong to continue our lives. Your dad and I are trying to spend a lot of time with friends, which has been so good for us. Being with other allows us to laugh, have fun, live normally. But no one knows how deeply our pain is when we're at home, alone or with each other.
Yesterday, at your cremation, the priest was saying that you were only meant to suffer a little bit in this life. The shock from labor is the only pain you were meant to experience. That is apparently a good thing. You came and left this world without a sin. He said you must have been a saintly person in your previous life. It's so selfish, but I wish you hadn't been so saintly. I wish you had come to us and given us what we were expecting: a life full of joy and frustration, pride and stress....the whole parental package. Yesterday, at the funeral home your dad said "it must be so scary to take your kid to his first day of school". To that I replied "not scarier than this."
I would have given my life, everything I have, to have had you with us Leo. All I wanted was us to be a happy little family. Nothing extraordinary...just a normal family, like all the ones we see around us.
You're dad left early to go on a business trip today. He'll be back later today, but this is my first day completely alone in the house. I've planned to meet a friend for lunch and am trying to find someone to meet for dinner, so that I'm not entirely alone.
This morning, I really felt like talking to someone about you. I called my dad, but he didn't pick up. I texted a friend and asked if I could call, but she didn't answer. I stopped in front of the mirror a few times today and looked at my belly. When I was pregnant, I didn't really like that I was getting 'fatter'. I always wanted flat abs, and being pregnant is the opposite of flat anything. But now, I miss my bump, I miss you. I feel sad that my stomach is getting back to its original size and that there are no signs that you were ever inside me.
Today, I noticed that my breasts, while still full, didn't leak with milk like they have in the past few days. The fuller breasts were painful but now I'm also sad that I'm losing that. I know it doesn't make much sense because you live in my heart and that will never go away. But I'm struggling with things going so quickly back to normal. Although I feel like I'm dealing with all this pretty well, that I'm being positive and all, I also like feeling the pain. I worry on days where the pain seems less intense.
Many of my friends and family have been saying that your dad and I are strong, that if it was them, they would be on the floor crying. I don't know what to think when I hear such a comment. As if we had the choice. What else are we supposed to do other than be strong? We need to be strong for each other, we need to be strong to continue our lives. Your dad and I are trying to spend a lot of time with friends, which has been so good for us. Being with other allows us to laugh, have fun, live normally. But no one knows how deeply our pain is when we're at home, alone or with each other.
Yesterday, at your cremation, the priest was saying that you were only meant to suffer a little bit in this life. The shock from labor is the only pain you were meant to experience. That is apparently a good thing. You came and left this world without a sin. He said you must have been a saintly person in your previous life. It's so selfish, but I wish you hadn't been so saintly. I wish you had come to us and given us what we were expecting: a life full of joy and frustration, pride and stress....the whole parental package. Yesterday, at the funeral home your dad said "it must be so scary to take your kid to his first day of school". To that I replied "not scarier than this."
I would have given my life, everything I have, to have had you with us Leo. All I wanted was us to be a happy little family. Nothing extraordinary...just a normal family, like all the ones we see around us.
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