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 tra
Think back to exactly seven months ago. Do you remember the day? Do you remember what you did that day, what your wore, and how you felt on that exact day? In many cases, this is unlikely. Seven months ago today I remember exactly what my day was like, what I was wearing, and how I felt. During the school day, I was teaching my Kindergarten students about the life cycle of a butterfly. I was wearing a long, black, grey, and white striped dress with a teal cardigan over it. I remember feeling extra tired that day, and made it a point to take it easy that day..well, as much as I could as a Kindergarten teacher. A coworker (and good friend) came to my classroom with her second grade class. Her students taught my class fun movements to act out for each stage of the life cycle. Then the second graders helped the Kindergarteners make life cycle projects. The kids were so excited. Still feeling extremely tired, I apologized to my coworker and sat down for a few minutes. Sh