It doesn't seem real that you have been gone a year. I miss you. I miss holding your hand. I miss petting your chubby cheeks. I miss kissing your toes. Your eyes - they always seemed to know everything...I miss them the most. I spend a lot of time thinking about you...I am so very afraid I will forget something. If I had to pick my favorite moment - there was one particular time I walked up to your room - it was nighttime and you were in your bouncy chair - it was quiet, most of the lights were off and there was just a computer screen and I think the end of Baby Einstein's lullaby playing in the background. All of your IVs were stretched as far as they could go, around the crib so that you could face the doorway. You should have been asleep, but you were wide awake. I smiled at you, and it took you a second, but then you recognized me and you grinned back. You were waiting for me.
I spent one Sunday with the monitor cords and your picc line IVs stretched all the way across the room so I could keep you on the couch by the window. I covered all the wires up with blankets and you just looked like a healthy little bundle that didn't belong in the ICU. The sun was out - you weren't used to that kind of light so you had to keep squinting your eyes, and then you fell asleep. I watched you sleep for a long time. It was perfect.
Once, I was holding you up against my chest, and you were wearing just your diaper. You weren't strong enough to hold your head upright so I had my hand on the back of your neck to steady you and you rested your chin on my shoulder. You were trying so hard to look up and over - like you knew that there was something great to see if you could just get that little head up a little higher - you worked so hard my sweet boy. You never gave up.
I was hoping by now I would have more answers. Mostly, why couldn't we have you here just a little longer? But I don't know, and I won't. A little longer would never have been enough time anyway. I hope you know that we would have slept in that ICU next to you forever if we just had the chance to have even 1 more hour. I think about what you are doing all the time, but I don't know, are you still 9 months and 2 days old? Or will you turn 2 in February? For some reason I believe that you will grow to be 4 or 5, then stop, but I'm not sure why I believe that...Addy is very confident you have a crib in heaven and that she will one day have a bed beside it with me then your daddy on the other side. Is she right? I am confident I will know you when I see you again, but I am not sure how. Will you have those same beautiful blue eyes? Will you be waiting for me then, too?
I hope you know that we are so sorry for all the pain you experienced while you were here; we are sorry for any moment you felt cold, or hungry, or alone. I hope you know that we wanted to give you everything we could and if given the chance, we would only try to give you more. We desperately wanted to keep you as long as we could but we wanted you to know happiness, too. You will always be our warrior. We knew you were God's perfect gift and we are so thankful that you got to be ours. I loved every moment with you. I felt so blessed every time you took a breath, so blessed every time I watched a heart beat on the monitor. I have never felt so sure of my purpose here, than I felt being your mommy. I will always pray that you are warm, that you are happy and that you feel nothing but love. You will forever be on my heart, love, and I will be patiently waiting for the day I will hold you again.
I love you, all the time,
Mommy
