August 3, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

I still can’t believe that it’s August.  I keep finding myself mentally arranging furniture to make room for your bouncer or other accessories.  Then I remember you’re in another place where you don’t need a bouncer.  I hope it’s a better place, baby boy.  I miss you dearly.  Your magic butterflies and goldfinches were still here today.  I think all things happy and whimsical will belong to you in my mind.  Beautiful birds, butterflies, and even rainbows will belong to you.  Although, you will have to share rainbows with your great Bup Bup Sandy.

I’m writing to you with my new Isaac pen.  Your daddy and I each have one and will forever think of our love for you when we use them.  They are beautiful and have your name engraved on them.  I also love how it writes (never underestimate the impact of a great pen).

Daddy had some appointments today and I was alone at the house.   I struggled with his absence.  I am terrified about being here alone tomorrow when he goes back to work.  I even forget to eat when he isn’t here.  I panic.  I find myself doing dangerous research about what happened to us and what it means for giving you siblings.  I get myself worked up and we won’t have any answers until we start going to doctors again at the six-week mark.

I swear I do not want to replace you.  I never could and I never would.  However, I do need hope.  I do need to fill my days looking to the future.  I just don’t know what I will do if the doctor says that this hopeful future simply cannot be.  This ordeal could have taken both of us.  I’d trade myself for you in a heartbeat.  I just need this future that involves your baby sibling in our lives.

I sought help today.  Your grandma insisted on it.  It was a very hard phone call to make.  It only took five tries, but now I am going to see a bereavement next Tuesday.  I told her our story.  I know from past experience that talking helps.  Unfortunately, talking can be the hardest thing to do.  I have a lot of processing to do still.  I hope this helps.  I’ll never get over this – never get over you.  I do need to find some way forward.  However we get “forward” we will do it together.

I love you very very much, even more than I love myself.

Mommy