Lily Joy

Oh where to begin. I am not sure. I feel like I could go on for hours. Discussing your chubby cheeks and little feet. I feel as if sometimes this is all a dream and that a 5 month old will wake me up hungry and cranky. That I will shrug off all of the crazy dreams I had about losing a beautiful little girl. That me and you will go about our day. Shopping, cleaning and cooking. Playing and tummy time all included, that you will giggle and your dad will too. That the two of you will play until you both fall asleep on the couch. That you will pull my hair and his glasses. 

But I don't wake up, because thats not what happened. The dream is true. I did lose you. That on January 6, 2010 my water did break. At that there was nothing anyone could do for you. That no matter who I saw or talked to. The midwife, the doctor, the other doctor, the emergency room doctors, the ob doctors. That there was nothing to be done.

The worst part for me was how healthy you were. It wasn't at the time. At the time I could not have been more proud. There you were, no water, infection, labor, but your heartbeat just kept on going like nothing was wrong. Sometimes on my better days I joke that you were oblivious to your surroundings. Something you defiantly get from me silly girl.

But it was not meant to be. I begged them to not give me en epidural. I just wanted to go through it with you. They did give me some weird drugs. Made me pretty loopy. But now that I look back it was probably better to be loopy. It was painful like they said it would be. "Worse than normal labor because your body is not ready." Is what they said. I believe it.

I was in labor with you for over 30 hours. From when my water broke to when you were born. The first doctor wanted me to go get a D & E. That infection would set in if I didn't, that the chances of your amniotic fluid refilling was so rare that it was not worth the risk.

But, we couldn't. We opted to wait the 24 hours. I should have gone to the ER. I should have not listened. I should have not gone home. We sat at home and said we loved you over and over again. Hoping you would hear us and begging that your water would fill back up.

But again it was not to be. By the next day at the ultrasound there was no water. Amniotic fluid refreshes around every four hours. I had not been leaking, but nope there was still none. It was heartbreaking to see you on the ultrasound. Trying to move without water, your heart beating happily, but probably a little confused. By then I had an infection. I had no idea what to do. They sent me to the ER. I sat there for 9 hours. Contractions and back pain. Oh yeah... I had a lot of back pain. Eventually they took me to labor and delivery. I'm not sure about how I feel about this practice. Though I understand their want to acknowledge me as a mother in labor. Listening to other babies cry when you didn't was hard to cope with also.

On your records it says you were not alive when you were born. But you were, only for a few seconds, less than a minute.

I remembered what your dad said to me when he handed you to me. "She might move." Warning me, to not be startled. You didn't though.  Before you were born nurses came in and urged us to hold you.

Before they brought me up to labor and delivery the woman gave me a choice of a D & E or labor so we could see you. Of course we wanted to see you. 

I'm not going to lie, you were perfect. So perfect I was shocked. I had no idea babies were so developed at 17 weeks. That your cheeks would be a little chubby. That your little toes would have their fingernails. That your nose would look so much like mine, your feet so tiny. Its funny at the time I Thought your feet were so tiny because you were born so early. It wasn't until after I had your brother that I realized they were small because mine were small. (He has your dads huge feet.)

Granted your skin was pretty transparent still. That I'm sure when i describe you to people that they imagine this miniature pink baby. But some women know better. Though I have not met one yet. There has to be women out there like me who have held a perfect little baby thats red, who's eyes are still sealed shut. Who's ears are so thin.

It was such a  weird experience. Your aunt and grandma came. They held you and loved all of you like we did. We should all be happy. I had a baby. Its supposed to be happy. But it wasn't. I told them about how strong you were. And we all talked about how perfect and beautiful you were. We held you and passed you around. But it was wrong, all wrong. It was too early, we were not prepared, and neither were you. I'm still sorry for that. As mad as it makes every one at me. I'm sorry I'm your mom, and the more I find out the more sorry I am. Thanks for gracing me with you presence even if it was only for 17 weeks. I never thought you could love someone that much. I feel overwhelmed by it. There's grief, and sadness, and guilt, the only reason these things don't crush me. The only reason I somehow get through the days. Is that how can these feelings overwhelm me, when loving you so much already has.

I miss you every single day.