I miss you so much. Those words don't even come close to explaining the magnitude of the emptiness that I am feeling right now. I knew that I would not be able to bring you home from the hospital and I knew that I would have to go on living without you, but I could have never imagined that it would hurt this much. I long to have you in my arms more and more with each day that passes since the last time I held you.
I can't help wondering about what could have been. What if your chest was just a little bit bigger? What if we could have saved you? Before we found out that your condition was fatal, I researched everything I could about little people so that I would know how to care for you. I found boutiques that made special clothes for little girls and ideas for making our home more accessible. I vowed to never let you feel like your differences made you anything other than perfect. I want you here so badly. I know that I was meant to be your mom. I know that no amount of wishing or praying is going to bring you back to me, but I do it anyway. I just want my baby.
After your funeral, your dad and I got out of town for a couple of days to just have some time to ourselves. I talked your daddy into getting his first pedicure with me while we were away. There was a mom and daughter getting pedicures together right across from us. The little girl was probably about 5 and her little legs wouldn't touch the water. All I could think was that your legs wouldn't be able to touch the water either and I wished that we could have that experience together. There are so many things that I wanted to do with you sweet baby.
The only thing that makes this bearable is that you are with Jesus. I have prayed for a sign to let me know that you are okay and you have given me that sign. Last Wednesday there was terrible weather and tornado warnings all around us. It was the last Wednesday of the month which meant it was the graveside prayer service for all of the infants in your cemetery. It was the first one since you had passed and I prayed for sunshine during your service to show me that you were alright. The sky was black all day long. When we got in the car at about 1:15 to start driving the clouds started to part. By the time we arrived at your grave, the sun was so bright and warm that I had to squint. I feel guilty for feeling this sad when I know that you are safe and happy. My warm belly, our hour and a half of love on Earth, and heaven is all that you will ever know. You are completely innocent sweet angel and that is a beautiful thing.
We meet with the geneticist on Friday to hopefully find out your actual diagnosis. I want to know, but I am scared of what they will tell me. I need you to give me a tiny bit of your strength for that appointment.
I love you Avery,