Sunday, March 5, 2017

My dear children

A letter to my children:

I hope one day you don't remember the bad days that happen more frequently. I hope you know that even on my hard days I enjoy your laughter, smiles, and humor that without a doubt you got from your dad.

Even though I probably seem so distant -which is, without a doubt, the biggest truth- I love to see that you two are so kind to one another, that you play so well together, that you are so smart building puzzles all by yourself without help. I notice on these days that I have less patience and can barely get up off the couch to take care of me let alone you. 

I'm sorry that I get so tired and just want to lay down and sleep. I notice you seeing me drifting into sleep and you go grab a blanket and tuck me in and lay with me. At three years old you are so aware and kind to know how to help.

I know this is all affecting you two, being the big sister it seems you have learned the roll of caring for your brother with helping him get drinks of water or helping him with some cheese when he gets hungry. 

I wish I had more energy to go do fun things like going out in the snow, coloring, or working on the alphabet for preschool. I know I am struggling, but I also notice you struggling too.

I see the hurt in your eyes when you stop during playtime and come to sit with me. Telling me you are sad about Eva. I ask you if you want to talk about all you can muster up to say is why does Eva have to die. I wish I had an answer for that, a good one. I wish she didn't have to die. I wish that we got to bring her home and you got to play the big sister roll of helping me with changing her clothes or holding and burping her. Teaching her how to crawl and walk, laughing with her. I wish SO much that we didn't have to say goodbye at the hospital instead of hello. 

I hope you know without a doubt this is not your fault. After talking about it the first few times when you were still so confused, I saw the sadness in your face and tears like you did something wrong. My sweet Marley, you did nothing wrong. I wish I didn't have to bring such hard reality to you. I wish we didn't have to talk about death, and know that it is so real, and happening. To us. To you. I see the fear that you think mom is going to die too. Which in a hard truth, part of me will die. When Eva dies, a part of mom and dad will go with her. Just like you. 

I wish that I could take away the hurt you feel knowing that this baby we have wanted for so long is no longer an excitement for you. You no longer ask me when Eva is coming because you know that as soon as she comes, we have to say our final goodbye to her. 

I want you to meet her, but I am also fearful as well. What if she passes away in your arms? This is a hard truth that we have to deal with and face. Every mothers worst nightmare is having to say goodbye to a child. But I am sure it is your nightmare too, saying goodbye to a sister you have wanted to see grow. 

But during the meantime while we sit and we wait, I love having the happy memories. The ones where you sit and read to Eva and tell her all about Star Wars. I have memorized the book because its what you want Eva to know about you. And I believe one day you can sit with her and have in depth conversations with her about why Darth Vader is the best while doing her hair. When I think about this, I cant help but smile and laugh. Because you really have this huge obsession with Star Wars. And really, when we ask you what you want Eva to know and learn about you....of course you pick Star Wars!

Even during my hard days you still like to have tickle wars with Eva, and sit and put your ear to my belly. Then laugh because you say she farted. This also makes me laugh you find it funny you think she farted. 

I try to have you put your hand to where she is kicking and get  to feel that special bond with her, but you get so annoyed because she doesn't like to move right away or moves around so you miss it. This makes me laugh and know that once again, I have a stubborn girl just like you. 

I love that every morning you ask if we can listen to 'baby Evas' song and we sit quietly and listen to her song and then a few more songs like it so we can feel her close by. 

I love that even though it is hard and sad to hear you say it, that you pray for Eva. This is something you come up on your own and have no help from us. You ask Heavenly Father that Eva doesn't have to die. Oh my sweet Marley, how I wish this was true. I wish and have asked the same thing. I hope that the doctors are all wrong and that she comes out perfect and can live a long healthy life just like you and me. 

But once again, this is our reality. In June we have to say goodbye to something we wanted so badly. In June, we will have to watch a part of us die- and I hate to bring that sadness on you my sweet children. Because I know you will be hurting too, along with us. Though it will be different for you, I know it will still be difficult knowing that our lives will not be the same. 

As much as I want you to always remember your sister, I don't want you to remember the pain this has brought into our lives. Because I promise, one day we will start having more frequent good days, and maybe even go on some crazy fun adventures. These things I want you to remember more than anything! 

In my prayers I ask that this doesn't ruin you, it doesn't take away your sweet innocence, I wish that this didn't have to happen so you didn't understand how real death is. That it just happens to some people when they are old or get sick or something sad happens. THIS is our 'something sad happens', and it is so real. 


And for that, I am sorry. 

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