A Letter to Everleigh

To my dear Everleigh Sage,

Sometimes I feel as if I’m starting to lose thoughts of you, and that makes me so sad and even more afraid of everything.

Little precious moments of things you did and enjoyed that I don’t want to lose forever. Like the first time you fell asleep in my arms while I was rocking you in the hospital. Or like that time you were beginning to discover your little hands and fingers. You kept them folded up by your face and mouth, interlocking and unlocking your fingers together over and over again for hours on end. Meanwhile, you had accidentally gotten drool all over your hands and all over your face when you would go to rub your eyes. So, I stood guard with a washcloth by your crib until you fell asleep. But, I didn’t care though, because I would have stood there all day helping wipe and clean your sweet little face if it made you happy. And, most importantly, like the first time I saw you smile when you were playing on your mat, kicking away at your piano and watching it light up. Those are treasures I want to keep in my memories forever. 

I miss everything about you so dearly. Your scent. Your cute little smile and cleft lip. Your little button nose. Your messy strawberry-blonde hair. Your baby blue eyes, just like mine are, too, but they were staring back up at me. Your little chubby cheeks and arms- oh, they were so cute! The touch of your hands gripping onto my finger as you fell asleep. The way you loved watching your mobile go round and round as you laid in your crib. Oh, and the way you always had to sleep with your hands up by your face and with your feet left uncovered by any blankets because you absolutely did not like being swaddled. Your “sassiness” as the nurses would call it. 

The absolute hardest decision of my life was when I told the doctors that I wanted to go with a DNR, and then having to make that fateful call so soon afterward to let you go as you suddenly started to code again. But, the absolute hardest moment of my life was watching you take your last breaths  and pass away in my arms. You went so quickly, and yet so peacefully it seemed. I truly hope you did my baby girl. That it was just like going to sleep and that you didn’t have to feel anymore pain in those last few moments of your short life.  

I’ll never forget the moment when you took your last breath. It seemed like time stood still for me as the shock began to set in. I remembered screaming at God over and over again. But, I hope you know that I was right there the whole time, baby girl; holding you and stroking your sweet little cheek, whispering to you how much I loved you and that it was all going to be okay. That you had been so wonderful, brave and so strong for me. And that you could go on home to Heaven and that I would meet you there soon someday.

More than anything in this world or life, I so deeply just want to see you again and hold you, even if it’s for only a moment. Also, to tell you how proud I am of you for being so strong for as long as you were and that I love you so very much, forever and always. 

In the future, and even now, when people ask me if I have children, how should I respond? I did have a child, a beautiful baby girl, if even for only briefly. You made me a Mom after all, Everleigh. And for that, I am eternally grateful. You were and will always be my Light and purpose. 

I hope you are at peace, my love. You will remain everywhere in my mind, heart and soul until I see you again.

Missing you and loving you so much.

Love,

Mommy