To Our
Sweet Beautiful Tatum,
As I write this letter, I still find it hard to believe that you’re not here with us. This past year feels like one long, drawn out nightmare that we are waiting to wake up from, but our reality is that this is our life now. This has been a year of adjustments and painful firsts as your daddy and I have had to face holidays and milestones that you’re not here to celebrate with us. You will always be our first baby whom we tried for, planned for, and prepared for. We spent nine months dreaming about what life would be like after your arrival. We never imagined leaving the hospital without you. We never imagined crying ourselves to sleep, instead of hearing your cries at night. Our home never felt lonely until last April. Now, there is always someone missing when we are home.
A year has gone by, and although we cry less often, the pain is still unbearable at times. How is it possible for your little heart to stop beating without any trace or an explanation for why it happened? How could we make it full-term without any abnormalities, only to have you leave us so abruptly? These are questions that will forever be unanswered.
Your daddy and I still talk about how beautiful you looked when we held you in the hospital. I will forever remember your soft cheeks, hands and feet, which were all cool to the touch. I have images of your daddy holding you imprinted in my memory. I had waited nine months to see your daddy hold you and I remember being sad, but also so glad to see you in his arms. You see, things are funny that way now. I feel emotions differently since you’ve been gone. I can feel complete sadness, while also feeling a bit of joy at the same time. We feel a sense of loneliness without you, but at the same time, a sense of comfort from the friends and family who have offered us an immense amount of love and support this past year. Until one year ago, I never knew how confusing my emotions could be. My emotions are unpredictable and strange. I remember the day we found out that your heart stopped beating. Those events still haunt me regularly, but I am filled with such mixed emotions about your birth. The painful silence replays over and over in my mind as I hear the screams and cries that were let out by your daddy and me. At the same time, April 14, 2017 was the one and only day that your daddy and I got to hold you and kiss you. It’s a day that will forever bring me a small sense of joy for that reason.
I can’t help but wonder how today, your first birthday, would be different if you were here. We would be excitedly planning a big party. Mommy would be spending too much money on silly party decorations and finding the perfect outfit for you to show off in. Instead we come to your cemetery plot, a place where no parent should have to visit their child. Instead, we continue to think about the “what ifs” that surround us. What if you were here? What would you look like? What words would you be saying by now? Would you be walking? I look around at my close friends with babies and wonder how different things would be if you were here.
We are now expecting your baby brother in just about two and a half months. I can’t help but to feel a sense of guilt surrounding his arrival. You will always be our first baby, and nobody could come close to replacing you. Just as your daddy promised in his letter to you one year ago, your little brother will grow up to know all about his big sister Tatum and how much mommy and daddy love both of you. It is my hope that next year, for your second birthday, we will be honoring you with your baby brother in our arms.
We miss you so much sweet girl. Happy 1st birthday, Tatum. You are still, and will forever be in our hearts.
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