Letter to E


Yesterday was my first child’s due date, and it came and went like any other day. My baby never made it, she came way to early in February.


My baby, boy do your father and I miss you. Our precious child, our first baby and real dream together. Inspite of all the pain, I am so glad I had you to care for, even though I never got to hold you or look into your eyes and say “Hello, so your the one that caused me so much indegestion! I love you precious, I am your mommy and you are my baby. There is nothing I would not do for you. I love you so much.”

But it never happened. I never got say those things. At least not holding you in our arms. I dreamt of seeing your father holding you. He wanted a boy as most men do, but after you came and we found out that you were a girl (as I wished), he just broke down and cried. Completely heartbroken.

E, do you know that I love you-along with your father- more than anything, even our own lives? Do you know how I bargained with God to spare you, right down to that last bitter sweet moment? Do you know that you changed my life with your coming and your leaving?

Do you hear me cry for you? Do you know me? How I am, with my defects and all? Do you know that your father just got his precious tomatoe plant to grow?

Do you know of our daily lives? Do you know that I am painting the home and I have just switched careers?

Do you realize all the changes that have come about because of your loss? Do you know that we are consumed with projects in order to deal. Do you know that you made us better, individually and as a team? Do you know that you helped me see who was there, and who was not? Do you know that you showed me that I am strong and that your father is my hero?

Do you know that yesterday was your due date?

We sure do.

I am so sorry I have not had the courage to buy you a frame and scan your footprints. You still have no urn. I am sorry. I finally have the courage to have your footprints out and they are hinged right on the side of our wedding photo. We are working on the footprints and urn.

Emi, my little baby girl, we love you so much. Always know that. Always know that you are missed and that even though we had a short time together, we will NEVER FORGET YOU.

I still remember your movements on the sonogram and hope that I never forget them. But you-we will never forget.

I pray for strength and hope, and I feel stronger now. We feel happier now too, and ready to try again. I want you to know that if ever this happens again, your father and I know that no sibling of yours is ‘disposable’. We will always love our children, living or not. I pray that God won’t permit this to occur again, or at least, not our next time. He nearly killed me with your passing.

I feel so honored that you were in my womb. At my last sonogram of you this very kind doctor told me all that was wrong with your little form, he felt we needed to know, and he was right. We needed to be at peace with the early induction, and we are. I remember you were moving your little leg and daddy caught your mouth opening and closing. Around that time the doctor told us that you were in the early stages of heart failure.

The nurse that attended the birth told me that you were beautiful and that you made no movements when you came. She assured me that you were born asleep. I am so glad that you died withing me. So glad that you never suffered, that all you knew was my womb.

I hope that all you know now is our love and Heaven’s peace.

I miss you my baby.



About Jessica Emilia

Mother, wife, grief survivor, dancer, yogi, feminine, baker, cook, lover, fighter, perfectly imperfect, optimistic, pessimistic, reader, writer, funny, sarcastic, compassionate, emphatic, sympatheric, HR Pro, anxious, confident, supernatural, hocus-pocus, friend, daughter and momma again...

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