Lilia Write Now

I write, therefore I am

Letter to my angel December 9, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — llipps @ 7:28 pm

Dear Poppy/Papi

That is what your daddy and I called you.  We figured it was a suitable nickname whether you turned out to be a boy or a girl.  And really, we didn’t care. No matter what you had turned out to be, we would have loved you so much.

I already did love you.  Although I couldn’t yet feel you moving inside me, my body was feeling the effects of carrying you my precious baby.  The most obvious sign that you were taking up residence in my belly was my extremely heightened sense of smell.  It was unbelievable and slanted more towards making me nauseous than anything else. But I loved it. It was proof.

You also, at a very early stage of your development, were already making me quite tired.  I felt like I could never get enough sleep.  I would curl up for a nap, and smile at the thought of why it was I was so tired.

You were conceived through non-traditional methods, after many years of attempts and heartbreak.  I was in the car with your daddy and my own mom when the call from the doctor’s office came.  They told me to be cautiously optimistic but that the pregnancy test was positive.  Your grandma had a hard time driving the rest of the way to our house; it was hard to see through the tears of joy.

The second time they called, to confirm that you were indeed hanging in there, I was in the dressing room of a Kohl’s.  The nurse told me the good news and after we hung up I sat down and started crying.  The people in the stalls next to me must have thought I was a nutjob.

With every test and every phone call, it, no you, became more real.  I allowed myself to hope and dream like I never had before.

I wanted to know everything that was happening with my body and your development.  And I wanted to make sure that I was doing the right things to help you be the healthiest baby ever.  Against my better judgment, and on the advice of the nurse, I went ahead and bought “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”  Apparently this is the Bible when it comes to preparing for a baby.

Each week I would read out loud to your father what was happening at that point in my pregnancy.  He beamed and giggled like a schoolgirl.  I wish you could have lived to see your father’s face when he is happy.  It is like a warm blanket.  You would have been the recipient of so many of his smiles.

Because I was feeling pregnancy symptoms so early on, I was very in tune with my body, and therefore knew when something didn’t feel right.  Two days after my birthday, I went to the doctor and had them draw blood to check my hormone levels. They called and told me that my numbers had gone up (a good thing) but were not doubling at the same rate as they had been (a bad thing).  They asked me to come in the next day for an Ultrasound.

It was April 27.  Daddy and I got in the car prepared to make the 45 minute journey.  We were both excited and nervous.  About 20 minutes into the drive, I felt something wet, and knew I was bleeding.  I told daddy and he asked me if it was a lot.  I looked down and pulled my underwear away from my body and told him that luckily it looked like just a spot.  I felt relief for a moment. Then, whoosh! I could feel the blood rushing out of me very intensely.  My stomach was hurting.

There was a lot of blood.  I felt like I was swimming in it.  I was terrified and incredibly grief-stricken.  But your dad was a champ.  Although he too was struggling with his emotions, he held it together for me.  He drove as fast and as carefully as he could, and tried to keep me calm.  I looked up at him and saw that he was saturated with sweat.  We got to the hospital and he pulled up to the curb and left me in the car while he went to get me a wheelchair.

I couldn’t just get up and walk out of the car and into the doctor’s office because there was so much blood.  He came back with a wheelchair and a blanket to cover myself up with.  We got up to the doctor’s office and they led me into a room and asked me to lie down.  Once daddy helped me get up on the examining table, he finally broke down.  He laid his head on my stomach and we sobbed together.

There are literally no words to fully explain the grief and loss I felt at that moment.  I felt like someone had come and sucked all the air out of my body.  I felt empty, completely void.

The doctor came in, and although generally speaking he wasn’t the warmest guy on earth, he looked genuinely concerned.  He spoke to me very softly. Then, his voice broke through my fog of despair and he said “Lilia, I’m going to need you to pull yourself together because you have a baby here.”  Completely in disbelief I looked at the monitor, and there you were.  You were a teeny tiny little thing, but you were there.  Not only could we see you, but we could also hear your heartbeat; a strong 101 beats per minute.

I have never before experienced such a rapid change of such varying emotions.  One minute I was inconsolable and the next I was on top of the world.  We were going to have our miracle baby after all!  You were such a little fighter, you were really doing your best to hang on!

Thank you baby for trying, for wanting to be a part of our lives as much as we wanted you to be.

The feeling of this being a miracle really set in when the doctor told us your due date would be December 23.  Daddy looked at me and told me that was the day his mommy had gone to heaven.  It just occurred to me that you are there with her.  Oh I am sure Kay is taking good care of you.

We went home and I continued cramping and bleeding throughout the day and evening.  There was one particular moment that I knew was THE moment.  I stood up to use the restroom and this time it felt like a vacuum was pulling the blood out of me.  And the pain was so bad that it made me light-headed.  I started to fall and daddy rushed over and caught me.

As I went to sleep that night, I placed my hand on my belly and told you how much I loved you and asked you to please be strong and keep hanging on. But you were already gone.

I woke up the next day and felt an absence of those same pregnancy symptoms that had helped me believe in the reality of you.  We went to the doctor for a blood test, but we were just waiting for him to confirm what we already knew.

My dear angel baby, you gave me so much joy for the 6 weeks that you were with us.  We wanted you so much.  I could say that you would have been so loved, but the fact is that you are loved. I loved you from the moment I knew you were a part of me.  And I will continue to love you.

Although it seems there may be a lot of grief, you actually brought so much hope into our lives.  I now know that I am capable of getting pregnant. I know that when I do have your baby brother or sister, you will be looking down and keeping an eye on them, making sure they are safe.

I love you sweet baby and always will.  Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you.  I will never forget you.  Thank you for the gift of hope.  Now go play!  That’s an order from your mommy.

“If every tear we shed for you became a star above; you’d stroll in
Angel’s garden, lit by everlasting love.”
~Author Unknown

“A Thousand Words Can’t Bring You Back,
I Know Because I Tried
And Neither Can a Million Tears
I Know Because I Cried.”
~Author Unknown

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory
no one can steal.”
~Author Unknown

“An Angel in the book of life wrote down my baby’s birth. And
whispered as she closed the book “too beautiful for earth.”
~Author Unknown

“When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory
becomes a treasure.”
~Author Unknown

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