Letters to Little: September 2010

Before I was a mother and I heard about children dying, I of course felt very sad, but also very disconnected. I could not fathom having a child, therefore I could not fathom losing one. Because I write these letters to you online, people will often send me links to offer support to families who have lost children. I cannot even click the link myself because I don’t want to open myself up to the situations these families are facing. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I think it makes me normal.

Every so often, I will find myself on a blog of a parent who has lost a child by accident. I normally click away but this morning, I saw the pictures of this couple’s daughter and she reminded me of you. Stupidly, I began to read the story. At work. The couple’s young daughter had fallen into an irrigation canal and finally been scooped out 2 miles down the way by a farmer who happened see her and performed CRP. She was in the hospital for about a week before passing away.

I went back to look at her as a baby, snuggled with her mom. A toddler learning to walk and the tears began flowing. She was such a beautiful girl and the parents, so proud. I quickly ran down to the office basement and cried heavy sobs. Putting myself in their shoes, watching you slip away. I cannot imagine there would be a loss more profound. I thought of your little smiles just this morning when you started the week off by waking up at 5am, much to my dismay. Your giggles as I played hide and seek in the living room. You are such a part of my heart. You reside there. If something happened to you, I cannot help but think I would not be able to go on. That my heart would simply stop beating and I would wither away.

I remember writing about this when I was pregnant with you. That by having you, I was signing myself up for a life with a constant fear in some far reaching part of brain, always reminding me that you could be gone in an instant. Writing these letters to you and taking photos helps me push that fear deeper every day. So that if something did happen to you, I would have spent our time well. Even when things are hard. Even when you are fussy and pushing me away. Even when that day comes that you say you hate me. I love you more than anything has ever loved another thing (the way all mothers fall, so hard in love with their littles) and I hope that our life together is long and peaceful but if it is not, I want you to know I have cherished every moment with you.