Merry Christmas

A year ago today, I was in the hospital with Bella celebrating Christmas. I can't remember what she wore, and in all honesty I can't even remember most of the day. It saddens me that I just remember bits and pieces. I wish that I could go back and remember every single detail. I wish that I could've captured the day in my mind like some kind of video. Our first and last christmas together. I do know that I loved every single minute of that day, that I have no doubt of.
I do remember that one of her presents was a little stuffed pink hippo that played music. At night when I would leave to go home I would always turn the music on. I didn't want her to feel alone when I left. It was a horrible feeling having to say good night and to have to go home alone. The music that was supposed to be comforting for a baby was my good night; not comforting at all. The other day, I made the mistake of turning on the music. It made my stomach turn and made knots in my throat. I put it back in the bassinet. It makes me sad to remember, but at the same time it doesn't. That little pink hippo was a part of our journey together, and for that reasson, it stays.
I went to visit her grave sight today. It's still horrible to think that this is where I'll be visiting Bella for Christmas. I had imagined that as the years went by Bella and I would be baking cookies together and writing letters to Santa Clause. I had imagined that we'd be making hot chocolate with whipped cream on top, and that we'd cuddle and enjoy the day with each other. I can't believe that none of this is possible now.
 She's in a better place. God needed his angel back.  I know this is true. I know that the only way to go on with life is to have faith. I do have faith. I do believe. I know that I'm strong enough to do this. It doesn't take away the fact that I feel so incomplete. It doesn't take away the fact that my heart is completely broken. Or that every now and then I'm angry that she was taken away from me. I don't know when I'll be able to understand completely; maybe I never will. One thing I do know is that I will always love Bella. That she'll always live in my heart.
I thank God for allowing me to experience my little miracle. I thank him for those 13 months. I thank him for our one Christmas that we did spend together. I thank him for allowing me to be her mother.
I'm grateful that I was given the opportunity to spend my last days with her. I'm not sure that I would've been able to survive without those last memories. That smile. Those eyes. The brand new teeth. I'll cherish those memories forever.

I thought we had become friends; I was wrong. I never let myself need him, not even when I found out I was pregnant with Bella. I did it all on my own with no trouble. On the last days, I felt that we understood each other because of our love for Bella. I felt that we were on the same page. The day I lost her, he was gone too. My heart has been crushed twice. God must think I'm made of steel. He must really truly believe that I'm strong. I really wish he didn't. The one person that would be able to understand the pain I'm going through, has continued on with life. His life has gone back to normal. I'm happy for him, don't get me wrong. I believe that at some point, life has to go on as it was before; I'm just not anywhere near that yet. I'm angry at myself for letting myself believe that I needed him. I needed that other person to understand exactly what I was going through. I should've known that he wasn't someone I should rely on. I should've known that it wasn't his responsibility to be there for me. Why I thought he would be there is beyond me. I'm thankful for all the things he did do for Bella, though. And although I find myself extremely alone today, I am thankful to God for having given Bella a great Dad. He loved her the way that I loved her and for that I'll forever be grateful. My daughter deserved the best, and that she did have. The memories of them together will forever be embedded in my heart, and will always bring a smile to my face. Bella captured his heart, something she was great at.
Today life is not at all the way I had imagined, but I think it's safe to say, "If I survive this, I can survive anything." In two years I've experienced from the most beautiful to the most painful events in my life. I'm still standing, so that probably means that I'll be okay.

I wish..

Today I think it finally hit me. It's almost like I was hit by a ton of bricks. The realization that Bella is gone and I'm alone, has finally hit; it hurts more than I could've imagined. I feel sick to my stomach. I hate myself for letting her go the way I did. I hate the Doctors for giving up so quickly. I want to hate God for taking the most important person in my life. I feel like I could've fought harder, like I could've had more time with her. Why didn't I put up a fight? Why didn't I question things further? Why, if I had fought so hard from the beginning, why did I let them give up so easily? Why?    
I've been visiting her everyday, and each day it gets harder. I miss her so much, words can't explain it. My whole world revolved around my lovebug, and I loved every minute of it. The good and the bad days, all of it, I'd do it all over again in a heart beat.
The hospital stays were hard, but honestly, as long as I had Bella none of it mattered. I could've stayed there forever as long as I was with her. I know she's not coming back and everyone tells me that life does go on; but does it really? How am I supposed to go on? My heart is beyond shattered. I miss her smile. I miss her chubby arms and legs. I miss waking up to her face every morning. I miss everything about her. Everything.
I regret letting her go. I wish I could take it back. I wish I had my angel with me. I wish that I'd made the decision on my own. I wish that I would've found a solution. I wish that Bella would've outlived me.

Bella is flying with the angels..

It's been 5 days since Bella passed away, and it's barely starting to feel real.. I cleaned my room today, I had purposely been putting it off. I didn't throw anything away, I didn't move anything out of its place; I couldn't. The realization that she's really gone is starting to kick in. The clothes she wore on her last days still smell like her, that beautiful scent of hers. Her favorite toys are in the same bag I brought them home in; I can't get rid of them. I folded her blankets and put them back in their place, I folded her clothes and put them in the drawers, I put her little brush back in its place; I can't believe I'll never see that beautiful smile again. Last night it finally started to sink in, and it hurts. I don't want to let the pain take over, I can't just yet; I'm not ready for that unbearable pain that's coming. It creeps in occasionally, and I know it's going to take over soon. I didn't go visit her grave sight yesterday, and I feel horrible about it. Every single day since Bella was born, I never once went an entire day without seeing her. When I realized that it was so late in the day, and I wouldn't be able to go see her, the pain I felt was unexplainable. I know she's in a better place, but I can't help but want her back. I miss the way she fit perfectly in my arms, and the way those big brown eyes looked up at me. The way she'd touch our faces, as if she were telling us that things would be okay.
On November 30th, the doctors broke the news to us that Isabella was not getting better, and that we would have to make a decision about her future and what we wanted for her. Bella was not able to eat by mouth, she was very delayed, and physically she didn't do very much. She was aspirating her own saliva, which was causing her lungs to deteriorate. The option was to repair the stomach surgery and put in a treach vent. However, this would only lengthen her time a little bit. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make in my entire life. We didn't want her to suffer anymore, she was tired and we could see it. We'd asked her to fight a battle that she would not win, and it'd be cruel of us to ask her to keep fighting for us. We decided to go for comfort care so that she would go as peacefully as possible, and wouldn't feel pain. It all happened so quickly, it felt as though I had been sucker punched in the stomach. We decided that we would continue with her care as we had been before going into the hospital, and when she started to show signs of the pneumonia taking over, we'd start the comfort care. I honestly didn't believe that we had so little bit of time. I had hoped that the pneumonia would clear up and we'd be able to take her home, but that didn't happen. On the night of December 2nd, Isabella had a really hard time breathing. It broke our hearts to see her gasping for air. The doctors did not give much of an option, other than providing more oxygen, which we knew didn't help at all. She was gasping for air for about 20 minutes, and we could see the pain and desparation in her eyes. We never wanted her to go through that pain, ever again. We made the decision to start the comfort care that night. A decision that I questioned every single day after that, until the very last day of Isabella's life. For the rest of her days she was pretty drowsy from the morphine, she hardly woke up. There were moments when she'd still open her eyes and reach for our faces. I couldn't believe that I was watching my daughter die. I hated myself, I hated the doctors, I hated God himself.
 She kept fighting, there were times when I thought that maybe she just wasn't ready to go. It was almost as though God himself sent the Doctor to answer my question. The doctor came in and looked at Bella, her breathing was steady compared to the last few times she had seen her. I told her she was still fighting, and she said, "Isabella is a strong little girl. She's fighting. Not because she wants to stay, but because fighting is all she knows." I thought about this, and it honestly made so much sense.
 I watched Bella breathe, every rise and fall of her chest. I could see the struggle, I could see her fighting. The following days happened so quickly. They gave her more morphine and it made her sleepier. The goal was for her to be sleepy so that she wouldn't feel the desparation of needing more oxygen. On the morning that she passed away it happened in a matter of minutes, but to me it felt like time had just stopped. She took her last breath, and it took me a little bit to realize that she had actually stopped breathing. I woke her dad up and we both knew. Her heart kept beating for a few seconds and then it slowly faded away. She looked relaxed, like she had finally breathed a sigh of relief. Bella had entered the gates of Heaven, she was flying with the angels.