Dearest Leo,
You were supposed to be born today, February 13, 2014. I had a different vision of what this week would look like. I imagined preparing my hospital bag, making sure we know how to operate a car seat, making sure your crib is all set up and beautiful, that we have enough diapers, clothing, and the other million things I needed to take good care of you. I imagined being so big, so uncomfortable, so impatient, so anxious, so excited about meeting you...but probably a little scared about giving birth - probably deciding that, I didn't want to go into labor after all.
Never could I have imagined that I would be sitting here, with empty arms, with the crib still its box, the baby clothes tucked away in a drawer that hasn't been opened in a while and an aching heart.
I decided to post something about your life on Facebook today. I had never announced my pregnancy on Facebook. I had never announced your birth nor your death. But today, I wanted to honor you in some way. So I shared it with the world. I put it out there that you came and that you left.
I'm not sure if I sometimes tell myself great things about you, just as a coping mechanism...but I do feel, Leo, that your short life has had a tremendous impact not only on our family, but many people around us. I decided to speak up, to tell the world that not every pregnancy leads to a healthy, living baby, that the pain of losing a child is real and should not be a taboo. I've been overwhelmed by stories that have been shared with me today. So many babies, so many losses, so many heartaches. It's depressing, no wonder people don't talk about it - but it's all too real and we shouldn't just sweep this under the rug.
So many strong women, women whom I admire have come to me to tell me that they admire my courage, my strength. I owe all this strength to you Leo; after all, your name does mean "lion-strong" or "lion-hearted". Oh and how this name suits you!
Leonardo - I think I would have called you by your full name whenever I would have had something serious to tell you. So here goes: Leonardo, you have made me a better version of myself. I do have my moments of failure, moments where all I want to do is be angry, scream at some innocent soul, give a piece of my mind to mean-spirited parents... But, in the 62 minutes that you were with us, you have thought us many important lessons.
You were supposed to be born today, February 13, 2014. I had a different vision of what this week would look like. I imagined preparing my hospital bag, making sure we know how to operate a car seat, making sure your crib is all set up and beautiful, that we have enough diapers, clothing, and the other million things I needed to take good care of you. I imagined being so big, so uncomfortable, so impatient, so anxious, so excited about meeting you...but probably a little scared about giving birth - probably deciding that, I didn't want to go into labor after all.
Never could I have imagined that I would be sitting here, with empty arms, with the crib still its box, the baby clothes tucked away in a drawer that hasn't been opened in a while and an aching heart.
I decided to post something about your life on Facebook today. I had never announced my pregnancy on Facebook. I had never announced your birth nor your death. But today, I wanted to honor you in some way. So I shared it with the world. I put it out there that you came and that you left.
I'm not sure if I sometimes tell myself great things about you, just as a coping mechanism...but I do feel, Leo, that your short life has had a tremendous impact not only on our family, but many people around us. I decided to speak up, to tell the world that not every pregnancy leads to a healthy, living baby, that the pain of losing a child is real and should not be a taboo. I've been overwhelmed by stories that have been shared with me today. So many babies, so many losses, so many heartaches. It's depressing, no wonder people don't talk about it - but it's all too real and we shouldn't just sweep this under the rug.
So many strong women, women whom I admire have come to me to tell me that they admire my courage, my strength. I owe all this strength to you Leo; after all, your name does mean "lion-strong" or "lion-hearted". Oh and how this name suits you!
Leonardo - I think I would have called you by your full name whenever I would have had something serious to tell you. So here goes: Leonardo, you have made me a better version of myself. I do have my moments of failure, moments where all I want to do is be angry, scream at some innocent soul, give a piece of my mind to mean-spirited parents... But, in the 62 minutes that you were with us, you have thought us many important lessons.
Life is short. Life is precious.
I am grateful for all that I have.
I am grateful for you.
I am grateful for all that I have.
I am grateful for you.
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