Sunday, January 5, 2014

Letter to my Daughter: December 20, 2013

My dearest Anya,

You surprised us yesterday by deciding to come into this world a bit earlier than expected,  37 weeks and 2 days into your existence. When your mom went into labour, there was a mix of absolute excitement, nervousness, and happiness that we would finally become parents. December 19th seemed like such an unexpectedly perfect day. Having you for Christmas would have been the greatest of gifts I could have asked for.

From the day we learned that you would be coming into our lives, we set out to be the best of parents to you. Pregnancy and parenting books are never something that we were short on, thanks in large part to your wonderful librarian mother.

Anya, I don’t know why you were never able to open your beautiful eyes. I don’t know why you never had the chance to breathe fresh air by yourself. I don’t know why you couldn’t cry your sweet cries, and be comforted by your loving parents. You came face to face with the unfairness of life before you had a chance to understand it.

You need to know that if there was anything we could have done to save you, it would have happened. You are our world. We never, never had any indication that anything might go wrong.
Your departure feels like a bad dream that has gone on too long. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right. You deserved a wonderful life, and I’d like to think that we deserved to have the privilege to give it to you. We were ready. All we needed was you.

Seeing you and holding you, after you had gone, gave me the most heartwarming heartbreak I have ever experienced. You were so beautiful. Your mom’s face, my eyes... and beautiful red hair.

Saying goodbye to you so soon after meeting you is cruel. I need you, and I can’t have you. I wanted to show you so many things about this world. I wanted to play with you. Make you smile. Make you laugh. And in a moment, all of that was taken away.

My sweetest Anya, I don’t know what happens next for you. I wish I could help you through it. I can’t pretend to know that there is a life beyond this one. It’s times like these that I really, really hope that there is a place where I might see you again.

You will always be a part of us, and we will never stop thinking about you. I hope that one day, we are able to tell your brothers or sisters about you. I hope that your departure will make us appreciate life a little bit more, as hard as it is to appreciate today.

You are in my (and your mom’s) heart. Forever.


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