Monday, May 25, 2009

I Can't Forget to Breathe.

Oh my Dear Baby,

How I miss you. I love you so much. My heart aches for you and my arms will always be outstretched for you. I have so many things I should be doing, but I am constantly distracted by my loneliness and longing for you. You are always on my mind.

I wonder how you are doing. Are you happy with your new family? Are you healthy? Are you growing? Who do you look like today, me or your dad? But of course there is one question that keeps resurfacing again and again in my brain: How much longer do I have to wait before I can see you and hold you again?

I’m such a fraud. I keep wondering if people can see right through me; I feel transparent. I walk around as though everything’s alright but I’m secretly fighting the pain. Or rather, I’m fighting the numbness. I’m trying to live my life again but it’s so hard when there’s no feeling. It’s almost as if a huge chunk of my chest has been removed; cauterized. And I’m trying to heal and move on but I just can’t ignore this gaping hole.

Instead I pretend. I keep acting as though everything is okay because people expect me to forget you. They just don’t seem to understand that I can’t forget. How could I forget my heart? Forgetting you would be like forgetting to breathe. I can’t and I won’t forget. Ever.

I wish you could know who I am. I wish you could see my face every day so you could be familiar with me and know that I am very much a part of your life. I wish you could understand how much you mean to me. I wish you could see the joy you bring reflected on my face and in my eyes. And one day maybe you could know how many tears I’ve cried over you. I wish you were here with me now so I wouldn’t have to miss you so much.

And I wish you missed me too.


  1. I am so sorry you are hurting. I don't really know what more I can say. Just know you are going to be a big part of this child's life -- no matter where you are.

  2. Thank you. It really is getting better, but I still have my hard times. I just want my boy to know he is loved more than he could possibly know.

  3. The transparency comment has context now.

    "I wish you missed me too." When my youngest was nearly a year I went away on a trip by myself for five days. It took him a day or two to re-adjust to me when I came home.

    I remember thinking, "I've done EVERYTHING for you for a year, and no memories at all?!" I don't understand, Princess; all I can say is hang in there. And its okay not to forget.

  4. You know, the more I get to know people, the more I realize so many of us have issues/heartaches/tramas/struggles that no one else really knows about or understands, yet we trudge along, sometimes with a fake smile on our faces. I remember at one point in my post pardum depression thinking that all we really do is pretend - pretend that we're okay, that we're happy, that life doesn't suck. I still think that way sometimes, but now I am reminded that life is about overcoming all these yucky things/circumstances. Not easily done. That's where the Savior comes into play - making up our deficiencies, loving us unconditionally, and sending angels our way to lift us up. Hmmm. I hope that wasn't too soap boxxy. Anyway, know that I think about you often, but I'm not sure what to do for your heartache...

  5. We lost our second child, Baby Brian. I was 40 weeks along and I just realized one evening that he hadn't been moving. We went in to the hospital and he was already dead. Some sort of freak umbilical cord accident. One of the first things I realized was that everyone says dumb, insensitive things - probably because they don't know what to say or don't/can't know exactly how you are feeling. I don't know how you are feeling because death and adoption are different - I don't know which would be worse. I don't know what to say. I am sorry. Just know that it does get better. Slowly...

  6. Oh Leila, I love you! Thank you so much for sharing such a personal experience with me. (I got all teary-eyed at work when I read it, and my work computer wouldn't let me respond for some reason). I wish I could express how much I feel for your loss... However, I'm also so happy for you and your growing family! I guess you and I have been blessed in such different ways, eh? But I promise that it's definitely getting better.