September 17, 2014

September 17, 2014

Sweet Lucy-Girl,

I am writing to you a little over a week after your special day. Oh, Lucy, what a day that was. I will never forget that I heard your heartbeat in that little room early in the morning. The doctor tried to tell us that you were already gone, and looking back on it, parts of me want to believe that you weren’t there. But I know what I know. And I know that we heard the heartbeat and we heard you strong. And the nurse smiled reassuringly to us to let us know that you were still there and still okay. I haven’t forgotten that. And as painful as that day was, I want you to know that I still treasure it. I treasure it because it was the last time I got to be with you.

I think about you, about how old you would be. And maybe what you would look like. I imagine you as my rock solid Lucy, my right hand to help keep Emiko in line. She would have loved to follow you. I would love it if you could still do that for her, in whatever ways you can.

Life here is wonderful and perfect. But it’s just missing you. And I’m missing you. Maybe that’s the only real difference between here and heaven: having everyone you want with you.

Say hi to your grandma for me. Be good. Keep an eye on us. And always know that I love you and that I think of you always.

With love,

Your Poppa

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Dearest Lucy,

Today is your special day. It’s been six years now. Where has the time gone?

I thought about you as school was starting up this fall. You would have gone to kindergarten this year. A lot of my friends’ kids have started kindergarten this year or last (kids who were born about the same time as you). I often think of what your life might have been like, and what our lives might have been like if you were still here with us. I usually imagine that life with you as a happy, healthy and whole little girl. But I am reminded that your body was not right. If you had made it through pregnancy, as I was prompted by the Spirit to understand at the time of our loss, your little body would not have been developed properly. You would have had so many physical and mental problems that the pain we would have felt to see you suffer in this life in that broken body would have been much more painful for us to bear than it was for us to lose you during my pregnancy. In that regard, I suppose you probably would not have gone to kindergarten, not the way other kids do anyway. You would not have experienced school the way other kids do. You would have been different. You would have needed a lot of extra help. It’s hard to know what life might have been like with you either whole or broken. Either way, I often feel that you are not too far away and that you see us and know what we are doing, even if we can’t see you and know what you are doing. Maybe you are able to help and watch over your little sisters now where you are in a way that you never would have been able to do if you had stayed here with us in a broken body. We miss you and think about you often. We feel you are part of our family even though we don’t understand exactly how things will all work out in the end.

Tonight as Emiko was laying in bed trying to go to sleep, she wanted to know, when you come to us, if you will be able to do “tricks”. Then she demonstrated such a trick by lifting one leg into the air while balancing on her two hands and other foot on the bed. Emiko likes doing tricks these days. It was interesting to hear her speak about you tonight like a sister and friend who could have played with her and done “tricks” with her. I often think of Emiko as our “first”, but she is not. You are our first child and you prepared me to be a better mother for Emiko just as Emiko has prepared me to be a better mother for Rosie, who in turn is probably preparing me to be a better mother for other children waiting to join our family.

Poppa had to go to bed, but he wanted me to let you know how much he loves you. He thinks about you often and misses you so very much. He cries sometimes because of how much he misses you.

I miss you too. I hope you are happy and well. I hope you know how much we love you. We love you so much. So, so very much.

-Momma (and Poppa)

Friday, February 14, 2014

Friday, February 14, 2014

Dear Lucy,

Today is Valentine’s Day.

Emiko asked about your blanket today. She thought it was Lisi’s blanket (Emily & Rob’s little girl Elise Huey). I explained to her that it is Lucy’s blanket. I told her about you and how you were with us for only a short time and then you went back to Heavenly Father. I told her that you are her big sister. Emiko said, “I just love her so much.”

We had a special Valentine’s dinner date (Cupid’s Crazy Cafe). It was really fun for Emiko to play like we were eating at a restaurant, ordering food on her menu, wearing a crown and a pretty necklace. It would have been so fun if you could have joined us. I don’t always think about it, but life would be so very different if you were still with us. I wonder if you are close, even though we can’t see you. I often sense someone near, or think I see someone from the corner of my eye. It’s probably just a reflection of light on the rim of my glasses, but I sometimes wonder if it is you close by, watching, seeing what we are doing.

Poppa mentioned you in our family prayer tonight. About how he hopes you know he thinks of you and how much he loves you. I miss you too.

My heart felt that aching loss, tonight, while sitting in a dark living room after watching a touching movie with Poppa (Departures, a Japanese film). I cried as I remembered how I never got the chance to see, or touch, or hold your tiny body. You were just suddenly gone. No special ceremony, no beautiful gown to dress you in, you were simply taken away. If I were the same person then that I am now, I would have given anything to hold you close to me for even just a few minutes.

I have become a firm believer, since Rosie’s birth, of babywearing and bed sharing. (These are attachment parenting ideas/practices.) I don’t think a baby can be spoiled by being held “too much.” I don’t really know why I’m telling you these things, other than they have been on my mind lately. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I’ll ever regret the amount of time I’ve spent holding and loving and caring for our little girls. All of the countless hours laying next to them in bed, waiting for them to fall asleep, and usually falling asleep myself in the process, figuring out how to do a variety of tasks with a baby in my arms, holding a baby over the potty over and over again while smiling, babbling, singing or telling stories to pass the time. I don’t think I will regret any of this. I know this time will be so short and pass too quickly. These beautiful girls will only be babies for a very short amount of time in their lives and mine.

Our time with you was cut short. So very short. I don’t ever want to look back and regret that I didn’t spend enough time with those whom I love most.

All my love...Happy Valentine’s Day...

-Momma