In September of 2017 we learned that our IUI had been successful and that we were finally going to be parents. On October 11th we discovered that something might not be right, but we held on to hope that you were just developing at your own speed. 13 days later, we learned that you had passed and that our hope was gone. And, three weeks later we said our final goodbyes to you after learning that the pregnancy was making me ill and needed to be removed right away.
It wasn’t the ending we were hoping for and our hearts continue to break with every week that passes. You’ll never read this letter, but my hope is that it will somehow let you know just how loved you are by mommy and daddy.
To our little peanut,
We had waited so long to see those two lines that told us you were on board. We were ecstatic when it finally happened, and we started planning our future with you.
You seemed to be doing well and the doctors gave us no reason to be worried. We dreamed of who you would become, who you would look like, who you would take after. We prayed endlessly that this was finally going to be our rainbow baby.
I relished in the exhaustion and the sickness, because I knew it was a good sign you were growing.
I wondered if you’d be mommy’s little boy or daddy’s little girl. I daydreamed about Saturday morning football games and ballet recitals. You were already so loved by so many people, but most especially by us.
We had two perfect weeks of baby bliss before our world came crashing down. The doctor told us you had no heartbeat but followed up with ‘it might be too soon’. Panic set in and we started to fret that we were losing you, too. I told you to stay strong and prove the doctors wrong. I begged God to let you stay. I begged my body to not put me through this again.
Unfortunately, God had other plans for you and you were called home to Him on October 24th. It broke our hearts to know that you were no longer with us and that we would never get to hold you, kiss you, or talk to you. We know that you’re in a better place, but it doesn’t stop the grief. We picture you surrounded by your brother and sisters eternally happy and never knowing any pain or sorrow.
Despite our short time together, you’ve left a permanent hole in my heart that can never be filled by anyone but you. You’ll always be in my thoughts and I’ll never stop dreaming about what could have been.
‘I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” –Robert Munsch