So here I sit. I have been complaining for days about no down time to just get stuff done – I am overwhelmed by all to do, Christmas stuff needs to be put away, thank yous need to be written, scrapbooks and photo books made – and yet when I am finally all alone, what do I do? I just sit and look at pictures of you. And cry. It is just so weird without you. People say that it won’t always be this hard but that doesn’t help me. In a way I need it to always be this hard because if it is not doesn’t it sort of mean I am forgetting? Or becoming okay with it? Because Jakey I will never be okay with it – and you will always be as important to me as the day I learned I was pregnant with you. I hope you liked the letter Tracy wrote you last night – it was perfect and actually one of the best parts of my birthday. I read it right before the Nyquil kicked in and it reminded me of the whole you – not just the sick you – but the you from the very beginning. She was the very first person I told when I just knew you were in my belly. She reminded me of all that joy and for that I am grateful. I have pasted it into this letter:
Jake – I know you won’t remember me since you were just a newborn when I held you in my arms on my couch in Roslindale. I marveled at how small and beautiful you were while Ethan played with Kyle on the floor and Serena wanted to watch The Little Mermaid, and all I had was an old VHS that didn’t work. Even then, holding you was already a culmination of your existence for me. Because I remember sitting with your mom on the bench at Jamaica Pond – she told me she felt like she could be pregnant because she had to pee all the time. It was even too early to test, but she already knew – I could tell by her smile, her excitement, and the sparkle in her eyes. I remember throughout those next 9 months, talking so much to your mom about whether you were a boy or a girl, what your name would be, where you would sleep, how your brother would adjust, what clothes you would wear.. at the time I was trying to get pregnant too, so I felt like you were my little surrogate baby. You were a little miracle. The first time I met you, you were bundled in your baby bjorn, walking around Jamaica Pond, so cozy and peaceful. Your mom was going home to pack for your big move and I was already sad that I would not get to see you everyday like I did your brother in his first year. But, Jake, my point is that your mom loved you from the moment you existed – her eyes sparkled at the thought of you, when she talked about you, and as she planned for you. And now we all feel that love through her devotion to you. I am so sorry that you are not here anymore, and so sad for the pain your mom, dad, brother and sister are feeling. I pray for you and for them. I know that Ethan will be an even more beautiful and amazing man because of you – and Jake, in your short life, you have made a difference to a lot of people. I know that all these words do not ease the pain. But I wish you peace and happiness on your new journey, and one day, when I get there, I will be looking for you.
Now Jakey – I am going to stop sitting and finish up these Christmas decoration now. I love you to pieces. XOXO