Hello sweet girl,

There has been so little time to spend with you through writing, but you are in my thoughts something fierce lately. I miss you and wonder about you all the time, and I’m feeling so much that simply can’t be put into words. My heart aches for you, even as I hold and cherish your brother. You are always with me, always part of me. I love you.

This song hit me out of nowhere last week, and it’s been my earworm ever since. The lyrics are spot on. It’s for you.

You are so loved.

Always,

Mommy

My sweet Lucy,

I’m so sorry, baby. This is the latest I’ve ever been with your letter. Though so many of my thoughts are connected to you, it’s been nearly impossible for me to make writing a priority. I feel some measure of guilt with each day that passes and I’ve missed writing. I gave up writing for Still Standing, which was hard because it was another thing that made me feel connected to you, something I did because of you. Every time I sat down to work on an article, the words just wouldn’t flow. It’s tough to get a moment to focus on only one thing at a time, and there’s always more to do. Not that I’m complaining, but it takes my focus away from you.

Though I may not demonstrate it as much in the written word these days, I think of you thousands of times a day. You’re part of my daily life and everything I do. I’m a better person, a better Mommy because of you. I wish with all of my heart that you were here with your little brother, being a good big sissy to him. I mourn for all you’ll never experience together as brother and sister, but I swear it’s as if Everett knows you by the way he calms and smiles when I talk to him about you or bring him near to you. It makes my heart ache and smile at the same time. Parenting Everett has opened my eyes to all we’ve missed with you, which is both magical and terribly painful all at once. I wish I were better at juggling the parenting of both of you, but never doubt that you will always be part of my life, and I will honor you with every kind word and action.

I love you and miss you eternally, sweet girl. I feel your light all around me lately honey.

Love Always,

Mommy

My dearest little Lucy,

Another month has passed; another month missing the baby who is still very much a part of my life. My thoughts have been lingering on you quite a bit the past couple of days. That’s not unusual, but I’ve really been feeling the bittersweetness of your absence with renewed vigor.

Maybe I’ve just been able to improve my awareness of you with the small sleep increase your baby brother has allowed me. The signs are all around, only now I’m seeing them better. Though it’s totally silly, I had a moment earlier when I glanced at the microfiber bath mat in the bathroom. It almost looked like a small footprint, like that of a big girl two-year-old, imprinted there on the mat. I instantly smiled, however sad a smile it was, and wished it were an actual footprint made by you.

I said your name aloud to Everett earlier in the nursery, and there was something so therapeutic about hearing myself speak your name to him. In my baby talk voice, I said to him that I was so thankful you brought him to me. Whenever I’ve made you a part of our moments together, he is calm, looking at me with knowing eyes, as if he truly does know what I’m saying… as if he knows his big sister. I’d like to think he does.

Last night, in the quiet late hours, I was snuggling your wide-awake brother, since sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. I’ve spent so much time just looking at him, soaking up the moment, my heart swelling with pride and more love than I can even contain. I was doing just that when suddenly I was missing you so much. It hit me like a strong gust of wind, and there I was, crying. I wished then what I always wish for: that you both could be here with me. I wish I could have had all of the snuggles and moments with you too. I can’t possibly measure the intense love I feel for both of you, but I felt the full volume of that love just then. It took my breath away. Oh, if only, my dear.

You’ve been the divine inspiration for my patience and tolerance these past weeks. Whenever I get overwhelmed, I stop for a moment and think of you. I take a breath and can almost feel you there, and then I’m flooded with love and my patience surges back. You’ve made me a better mother to your baby brother. I can sense your light often, especially when I’m missing you or just need a moment, and it rejuvenates me. I find that I can laugh more easily and see the humor in the ridiculousness of life and even in the shenanigans that inevitably accompany having a newborn baby. Like, for example when little man peed in his own hair while spitting up at the same time… it’s unbelievable how far a baby boy can pee! Instead of getting frustrated or overwhelmed, I simply laugh and enjoy the adventure. You bring out my laughter and gentleness, and I know it’s so good for Everett. Thank you for making me a better person every day, little one.

I’ve been struggling with Infant Loss Awareness month this time around. It’s the third October without you, and sometimes it makes me feel so empty and a little lost. I don’t know why. I guess my imagination has been kickstarted again with the magical change of having Everett here with us, because since he’s been home, I imagine you with so much more clarity. I can’t help but envision what it ought to be like with you actively being a big sister. It makes me miss you more. That’s hard and I can’t find ways to express my feelings surrounding your loss lately. Though a lot of it had to do with sleep deprivation and taking care of a newborn, I couldn’t write an article for Still Standing and get it in on time this month. Strangely enough, it felt like I was failing you by not being able to do that. It’s a little bit because I can’t find the words lately either. There’s so much I’m not doing to honor you these days, especially in the midst of this remembrance month. I realized just now though that the things I’m not doing are the things that are obvious to others. Perhaps that’s okay, because within my heart and mind, there’s so much being done to honor and love you. I know that’s where it counts, and maybe I need to practice some of that patience I keep finding on myself. I’m working on that.

Your little brother is starting to fuss now, asking to be fed, so I have to conclude this for now. I hope you know that you’re such a part of me and my inner dialogue. Sometimes I wonder if that makes me closer to you than to anyone physically here in my life. I treasure that idea, as  I treasure you. I love you so much Lucy. I miss you.

Love Always,

Mommy

My dear Lucy girl,

I’m a bit late getting to your letter, but I know you understand, especially this time. It’s been all about your baby brother Everett this week and last… we finally brought him home! I have felt your presence (and your absence) quite a lot since he arrived. Sometimes I see you in him when I look at his face, sometimes I feel you with me when I hold him in my arms. I love that he looks a bit like you. Your Great Grandma was taken with how much Everett looks like his big sister; she said it best when she said that holding him was almost like finally getting to hold both of you.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself thinking about what it could have been like if you were here, as a two-year-old, to welcome Everett home with us. I swallow the lump in my throat and try not to think about it too much because sometimes it just hurts too much. We were driving home from Everett’s pediatrician appointment earlier this week, and as I looked out the car window, my gaze landed on the clouds. There was something in them, and I still can’t say what exactly, that reminded me of you and again I felt your presence and  absence all at once. I couldn’t help but cry. It should all be different.

I need to thank you though, because you have given me strength and courage when I’ve needed it most lately. I feel it coming from you somehow. Like when I was in surgery to deliver Everett in the same room you were delivered in. Or on night two in the hospital when little Everett wouldn’t stop crying and we no longer knew exactly what to do. I already see that I parent in a way that’s patient and forgiving because of you. I find joy in the ordinary things and humor in the absurdities that can arise in things like diaper changing or spit up incidents. There’s a measure of joy in all of it, even at 3 in the morning for yet another night with your night owl brother. I know that I am able to embrace it all, especially the tougher parts, because I have learned from you. We all know what the alternative to this is, and that makes me unbelievably grateful for every messy, beautiful moment.

As you know (since you are with me always), time is a limited commodity right now with your newborn brother needing my attention, so I must wrap up this little letter. Really though, you’re always in my thoughts, and I am always composing my Lucy letters in my head, no matter what I’m doing. I miss you and I wish you were here, always. You’re still my heart, baby girl, and I love you endlessly.

Love Always,

Mommy

My dearest Lucy,

One month from today, we should be celebrating your 2nd birthday… you should be TWO! A two-year-old little you! I can picture you, my darling girl, in my mind’s eye, bursting with life, growing like a weed, chattering away, sharing smiles to light up the world. In that alternate universe that still exists in our hearts, that’s what’s happening.

My little girl, you’re part of my everything, part of my soul. It still hurts so much that I can only just imagine you, and that all we have are just a tiny handful of memories. The memories I keep of you are my most treasured possessions. Those, along with the signs I see of you in my everyday life, are so important to me. I saw you in the butterfly that lingered today as I watered your garden, in the dragonfly that landed on your Daddy’s fingertip in the yard last night, in the kind message from cherished friends yesterday… all I have to do is look, and there you are.

I wish for more time with you, even if only in a dream where we can be together again, just for a few minutes. I miss you.

I love you always, sweet Lucy. You’re my inspiration to continue living a kind life, one filled with gratitude and love… though we didn’t have enough time together, I am forever grateful that you’re our daughter. There is no purer love than the one your Daddy and I have for you and your baby brother. Thank you for choosing us to be your parents. Happy 23 months, baby girl.

Always,

Mommy

My dearest Lucy,

Oh sweet girl, I am so, so sorry that this note is so late. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of wrapping up school, prenatal appointments, gestational diabetes appointments, and I guess just life in general. I know you understand, but as your mommy, I feel I’ve failed you. I didn’t keep up with my monthly letter tradition this time around. It wasn’t because I haven’t been thinking of you… quite the opposite really. Your light finds me in different ways, and you’re always on my mind; I’ve thought of getting to this note countless times.

I’ve tried to start a new tradition of picking fresh flowers for you and putting them in your cabinet next to you, so you can have a little summer too. They’re safe behind the glass doors, away from your naughty cat so he can’t knock them over, as he’d be sure to do! It makes my heart happy to do that tiny little thing for you every few days. I wish I could do more. I know that when your little brother arrives, he’s going to need so much, and I worry that I won’t always get to our little traditions. I will do my best though. As we both know, love knows no boundaries, and no matter what I can actively do for you, as long as I am living, your light lives too, every moment of the day. I will try to go easy on myself with the mommy guilt, because I don’t think you’d want me to get too caught up in that.

As time gets closer to your little brother’s arrival, my heart keeps breaking just a little more because you aren’t here to experience it with us. He’ll never meet his big sister. It makes me so sad, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he knows that you have a very important place in our family. You are so precious to us, Lucy.

I miss you so very much, I wish you were here, and you’re part of my daily life even when I can’t get to the writing. I love you so much, sweet girl.

Always,

Mommy

My sweet Lucy,

You are in my thoughts today as you are every day. You’re three months shy of turning two today; how I wish we could see you grow. I need you to know that you are truly a part of me, part of my days, part of my heart. I get so scared sometimes because I don’t always feel I’m doing enough to honor you. I feel guilty when I don’t always get to our little rituals as often as  I’d like, or if I’m a little late in getting to them, but I just need you to know that you are so important to me and you always will be. I miss you terribly.

I had a flashback the other night of the very last time we were physically together. You in the little pink outfit and sweet bow on your head, heartbreakingly beautiful. My heart screams when I think about how I didn’t pick you up, why didn’t I pick you up? I was worried you were too fragile or that somehow I’d be disturbing you. You were so tiny, and… and you were gone. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about moments like that because they’re etched into my memory so clearly. But so are the other precious moments we had together, and every other time I’ve felt your presence since then.

There’s no replacement for you, precious baby. You’re my firstborn, my daughter, my perfect little Lucy. I’ll always look for you, and I love you endlessly.

Forever and Always,

Mommy

I love you, sweet girl.