My Blue Eyes

Your eyes follow me where ever I go....you are always with me, always tugging at my heart. I promise to remember.

Your Birthday

Dear Briana

So it's just past midnight, the 27th of March, 2011, and today already reminds me of all that should have been. You would be 4 today and we would be celebrating fittingly; party, cake, balloons, friends, all of that. You would be a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed, fun, energetic preschooler. I think of how it would be - how you would be - and it overwhelms me with a certain sadness. I still see other kids and picture you in their shoes, doing the things they're doing, playing hop-scotch at the park, riding bikes, climbing trees. Even though it's hard to imagine, I must envision what would had been.

I miss you terribly, not only on your birthday, but especially on your birthday. I think of the day I birthed you with a common joy and sadness. I can only hope that one day I can think of you and feel nothing but great happiness; perhaps only then will I truly know how proud I am to call myself your mother.

As always,

mommy

3/23/2007

Hi sweetheart. I am now 6 days past your estimated due date and feeling a little saddened that I haven’t met you yet. Daddy and I thought for sure we’d have you by now. If you decide not to come in the next few days, your doctor is going to make you come out. I am scheduled to go to the hospital to start labor on Monday night, the 26th of March. If this happens, I should be holding you in my arms by Tuesday. A part of me is excited because I know I will have my little girl within a few days, but another part of me is disappointed that it may not happen on its own. I wish I had some sort of sign of labor so I know you’re ready to meet the world, but I haven’t felt anything that would suggest you are. Only you know…I wish you would just let me know! I have our bags packed and ready to go and your car seat is snugly fastened in my car. All I need is a sign from you to tell me to get going.

I feel you moving all the time and I can see your little body jostling around in my belly. It looks like your little butt is always sticking out as far as possible. I push on you some times and you move into another position…I guess you don’t want to be pushed! Daddy and I were watching television the other night and you were moving like crazy. Daddy was so amazed at you and couldn’t help but smile. It is so sweet to see him so intrigued by our little girl. He likes to put his hand on my belly and rub you. He makes you move every time. Seems like you don’t want to be touched! Well, Briana, I will try to write again soon, but hopefully you will decide to come before I have the chance. I love you hunny and I will meet you any day

now!

March 27, 2007

Dear Briana

Four long years ago, heavily pregnant and eager in anticipation, I so longed to hold you in my arms. We were several days past our due date and I wondered if the day would ever come. I waited patiently, enjoying my final few days feeling your presence in my womb, imagining over and over again what it was going to feel like to finally touch you, and then the day arrived. It was very early on a bright and sunny Tuesday, when I first saw you. You were glowing, and this whole earth froze for a moment while I gingerly inspected my new "world". You were all I ever wanted, all I ever imagined, dreamed of, prayed for, and more. And you still are. And I still am...longing for you, and waiting patiently for the promise that has been made to me. I hope and pray that the day I see you again feels just like the first day I ever met you.

So now we approach your 4th birthday and I can't help but envision you as a cheery, playful preschooler. I am so sorry that you don't have that chance. No matter how much I yell at myself and tell you I am sorry, it doesn't change the outcome. All I can think to somehow muster the strength to carry on is that you're in a good place and that I will see you again. I'm holding on to that because that's really the only way I can hold on.

I love you and miss you every day.

As always.

Mommy