Goodbyes are not forever. Goodbyes are not the end. They simply mean I miss you.. Until we meet again.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011


They walk.
They talk.
They laugh.
They play.
They like certain cartoon characters.
They know what their favorite foods are.
Two year olds can do those things.
My two year old cannot and I wish with all my heart that she could.

Lately, I find myself going back to that place that I’ve been avoiding for so long. That place where I wish that this wouldn’t have happened to us; where I replay things over and over in my head trying to see if I could’ve done anything differently. I find myself completely consumed by the memories; before her, after her, but mostly when she was actually here.

I was so angry with God for a while; beyond angry. Every day that I woke up to find her gone, I hated Him with such a passion. I believed that if He was such a wonderful being He could’ve just made her better. He could’ve given her a chance at life. He could’ve given us a chance, but he didn’t. We’re still in a love-hate relationship, and I don’t think I’m ready to apologize for that. I know that God could’ve chosen not to give her to me at all, but He did; and for that I am eternally grateful. He could’ve chosen not to give me the opportunity to know the feeling of a child growing inside my womb, but He did; and I will never forget that. God is good. That’s hard to admit sometimes, especially after having lost such a wonderful little human being; extremely hard.

I’ve been told on more than one occasion to give Bella back to God with the same love that He gave her to me. On the day of her funeral, I don’t remember much of what the priest said, but I do remember that. He said to give her to Him, the way he had given her to me. I would’ve never given her up willingly. It’s selfish, I know. I just wouldn’t have. I would’ve fought tooth and nail, if it didn’t mean that she would suffer. I would’ve pushed and pushed until they found a solution. I didn’t. I gave up, and I gave her back against my will. I did it for her; not for God.

Bella’s great aunt had a dream about Bella. She said that Bella talked to her in her dream. Bella told her that she was fine, and that we shouldn’t worry. She says that Bella told her that she was an Angel and that she didn’t belong on Earth. She said God sent her on a mission, and once it was completed, she needed to return to Him. Her mission was something about leading her mom and dad in a better direction because we were heading down the wrong path.

Before Bella, I wasn’t entirely a lost soul, but I didn’t have direction. I was going to turn 21. I had started to explore the partying world. I was never home. I was always with my “friends.” Had it not been for Bella, I wonder where I would be today. I wonder if I was heading down a path of self-destruction without even realizing it. I thank God for Bella. She taught me things that I would have never learned otherwise. Her bravery, her strength, her determination; she inspired me. She made me the person I am today. I’m a better version of myself because of Bella. I can’t explain it any other way. Bella came to complete me, and someday, our love will reunite us. I’m sure of it.

There are so many things that could’ve been; but they weren’t. There are many things that could’ve not happened; but they did. Bella happened; and there isn’t a day that I’m not grateful for that. I miss her every moment of every single day. I love her more than words will ever be able to express.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Almost 2

Oh little Lovebug, the day is getting closer. Only 10 days away.

Who would've thought?

A year ago, I was stressng about your candy boxes not arriving in time for your party. I had ordered weeks before and they still hadn't arrived. They matched everything. The theme, the cake, your outfit. It probably wouldn't have made a difference to anyone, but I wanted everything to be perfect. I had carefully planned out your entire birthday party. I wanted everyone to join us in celebrating our wonderful accomplishment. We had made it. We had beat the odds. You were happy, I was happy.
Yes, we practically lived in a hospital at that point, but it didn't matter. I had you.

I had spent the weeks leading up to your party trying to figure out how in the world I was going to get you out of the hospital. I had planned to become that mean parent that demands to go home and gets her way. Yes, Lovebug, I was planning on being mean. Then I thought that I didn't want to embarrass you, so I figured I'd cry our way out of there. Much less embarrassing right? We had a party to throw, and I was getting desparate. It had been weeks, literally weeks of doctors guessing what was wrong. They ran this test, and that test, and then they'd start all over again. Everyone knew us. Everyone. Doctors, nurses, social workers, the janitors, the cafeteria guy (he always said a prayer for you), they all knew you by name. Long story short, we made it out. Your dad thinks it's because his job sent cookies to the nurses, I know it's because they had ran out of a plan and all of our questions were getting to them. Either way, you were free!

Your party was a success. We all gathered together and sang happy birthday to you. You looked beautiful in your tutu. It was custom made. Princesses usually get their stuff custom made. There were kids everywhere. I keep thinking of that day. Of all that we had to go through to get there. I'm reminded constantly of how naive I was then. I thought, We made it. The first year is the hardest. I can breathe now. Someone lied Lovebug. Someone meant well, but they gave me false hope.

I miss you. Your birthday is right around the corner and I can't plan. I can't bring myself to do it. I don't know what to do. It seems strange to have a "party" without you physically here. But it feels strange not to come together again like last year. I want to celebrate your life. I want to share the unconditional love that you brought into my life; into our lives. I want everyone to think of you. I want everyone to know. Everyone deserves to know about you.

Something will come to mind. I don't think it's what we do that matters; the only thing that matters is that we'll come together and remember you. Don't worry Lovebug, we'll figure something out. I love you.