Dear Andrew,

Just wanted to pop in and let you know I miss you.  Not that you don't know that.  I miss you more and more everyday.

I went up to see you today and brought you a few little Christmas things.  It's sad to think that I'm buying you little garden Christmas markers rather than actual presents.  Next week you should be six months old.  I wish you were here to celebrate Christmas.  I want to dress you up in little Santa pjs and cute holiday outfits.  Instead we are buying you Christmas ornaments and thinking of a little present that can last outside for awhile. 

Life just isn't fair and it isn't happy without you in it.

Miss you so much baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

Your grandmother said something to me the other day that got me thinking.  She said, you are only as happy as your saddest child. 

So how happy are you when one of your children is dead?  I suppose it means you are never truly happy because you are missing a piece of yourself.

I think about that all the time.  How I will never be truly happy again?  Losing you changed my perspective on so many things.  I try to be happy with everyone in my life but there is a part of me that always holds back.  A small corner that thinks I shouldn't be happy because you aren't here.

When you died a small part of me died.  I know it's cliché but I can feel it.  I feel so different.  I don't feel as confident or as comfortable in social situations.  I have no interest in seeing people or talking to anyone.  I've lost who I was before we found out you no longer had a heartbeat.  I've lost a part of me and what's replaced it for now is grief and sadness and anger.  An aching to hold you and have you here has replaced the excitement of your arrival.

It's not the life I expected.  It's not the life I wanted.

I hope one day I can appreciate the time that I had with you and sometimes I do but mostly I regret what we didn't do with you.  I regret what we are missing with you now and am angry that we don't get more time with you.

I miss you and love you.

Dear Andrew,

Anger.

It's a feeling that I get almost every single day.

I'm angry at you.  For wrapping your cord around your neck when we were so close to having you here.

I'm angry at my mom, who seems callous to me.  She has said some things without meaning to and logically I know I shouldn't be mad at her but I am.  I know she misses you and loves you and is trying her best but I have enough anger for everyone right now.

I'm angry at your father's dad for acting like this is something I should get over.  That I should already be back at work and dealing with life because I will have to at some point as he said.

I'm angry at your father's mother because all she does is cry every time we talk to her or see her.  If I can hold it together then why can't she?  You were MY BABY!!

I'm angry at my cousins who have all had beautiful babies this year and can't be bothered to see how I am doing.  In fact, they avoid me and ignore emails rather than talk to me.  I'm angry at them for making me feel like there is something wrong with me.

I'm angry that out of seven babies on my side and one on your father's side you were the one who didn't make it.  It just doesn't seem fair.  Not that losing you or any baby is fair.

I'm angry that the baby on your dad's side of the family was born on your due date.  He will forever be a reminder of what you should be like.  I love him but am angry about the day he was born.

I'm angry at the people I work with.  The fact that I've worked there nine years and they couldn't even send flowers when you died.  I'm angry that it took them five months to reach out to me and I'm angry that some of them still haven't.  I'm angry at the thought of going back there and having to look those people in the eye.  Those people who can't deal with my grief because it's too hard for them.  God forbid, they imagine what it's like for me who has to live with it for the rest of my life.

I'm angry at my best friend who has proven she is the most self-centered person I have ever met.  I'm angry that she thinks she can just ignore my feelings for months and then expect me to be there for her when her boyfriend breaks up with her.  I will not do it this time.

I'm angry that my life doesn't have you in it the way I planned and imagined. 

I miss you. I'm angry and I'm sad but I miss you too.  And hopefully one day I won't be so angry because that list is pretty long right now and I think it takes away from you.

Dear Andrew,

When does this pain get easier?  When does the pain of losing you not infect every single second of my life?  I don't want to let you go.  I will never let you go.  I just want to learn to live with the pain.  I want to learn how to accept that you are gone.  I want to learn how to survive this constant feeling of drowning in the sorrow of your loss.

Sometimes I feel like I am the only person that misses you.  Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who won't forget you and am constantly fighting for people to remember that you were here and you were alive.  I know I'm wrong and that everyone grieves differently but I don't want you to ever be forgotten.  To be pushed to the back shelf like someone who didn't matter.  And I feel like people are already doing that.  You haven't even been gone six months and I feel like people want me to move on and pretend like you weren't here.  And a part of me wishes they could experience what I went through losing you so that they would understand.  I know you aren't supposed to wish this loss on anyone but sometimes I do.  Where is the compassion of other people?  You were not a pet, you were not an object that I held dear for a little while.  You were a living, breathing human being.  You were my son.  My firstborn.  The love of my life.  And no matter what happens I will never forget your short life or how your little presence changed my life so completely.  I want people to understand that this isn't something you get over.  It's something you learn to live with.  One day you wake up and realize the pain is still there but it isn't as raw.  And I'm just waiting for that day to come.

Dear Andrew,

This week has been emotional.  Every time I see a baby your age or younger I think of you and tears spring right to my eyes.

You consume my every thought this week. 

Last night all I could think of was you and cry.  Your father was at work but he knew something was wrong the second he walked in the door.  How does he always know?

I keep thinking about what we were doing this time last year.  How I was dying with morning all day sickness and convinced you were a girl!  We were in for a surprise when we found out you were a boy!

We were so excited at this time last year.  We couldn't wait to meet you.  Everyone was excited about you.  Your grandparents, your aunts, and your uncles.  Now, we are just sad and the house is so quiet. 

I just wish you were here.  I wish we could see your smiles.  I wish we could see how you had changed since birth.  But we are stuck with what you were like on your birthday.  That's all we have and that's all we will ever have.

I miss you so much and wish you were here.

Dear Andrew,

November 15, 2013

I was lying in bed last night angry.

I am angry that nothing with this pregnancy is going to be fun or easy.  All the joy of having a new baby is gone from our lives.

I constantly worry.  Was I like this with Andrew?  Why don't I feel sick yet?  Does that mean there is something wrong?

I have convinced myself that there is going to be something wrong on the scan so that I can't even be excited right now about your little brother or sister.  I've convinced myself I will somehow lose this baby too.

I don't remember being like this with you at all.  In fact, I was so relaxed it was the first thing everyone commented on.  Don't get me wrong, I followed all the advice of the doctor.  But I was of the opinion you would come when you were ready.  I never worried about scans or anomalies or losing you in the first trimester.

Now it's all I think about.  Is there really a new baby in there?  If so, why do I feel different to how I felt with Andrew (you gave me some amount of all day sickness until 14 weeks, buddy)?  What if there is something wrong with this baby?  What if we lose this baby too?

I'm only five weeks into this and I feel like my nerves are going to be shot by the end (if we make it there).  It's just hard to imagine any sort of happy ending when my pregnancy ended in such a horrible way.  I don't think I will ever believe your little brother or sister will be here until I hold them in my arms and see them for myself.

I want to be excited but I just can't muster any enthusiasm.

I miss you and love you and want you here.  I want both of you here safe, healthy, and alive.

Dear Andrew,

I was having a conversation the other day about you.  The person mentioned that your father and I have gone through one of the hardest and worse things a parent could go through.  They said the only thing that would be worse is losing an older child.

I took exception to that.  How is it easier to have a stillborn child than losing an older child?  Do people think because we had less time with you and therefore less memories that it makes it any easier to say goodbye to you?  If I spoke to someone who lost an older child and asked them if they would rather have lost that child when it was in the womb, how do you think they would feel?  Would they trade in all of their memories of their child, thinking that they might suffer less?

I do not believe any parent would do that.

For us, we've lost out on a lifetime with you.  We will never hear your first laugh, watch your first step, or see you smile at us. We mourn not only your life but the life with you that we lost out on.   I don't know how anyone could think losing a child in the womb or shortly after makes our situation any easier than someone who lost their child when they were 3, 15, or 40.  When you lose a child no matter what the age a part of you dies.  I just wish people would understand that even though we never met you outside of me that we knew you.  You were and are our baby.  It doesn't make a difference that we don't have any memories beyond that.  And it certainly doesn't make losing you any easier.  We are parents who desperately miss our child and all that should have come with you being born alive.

Dear Andrew.

November 13, 2013

Today I went to the doctor to confirm that you're little brother or sister really does exist.  And the answer is yes!  Our doctor was so excited you would think she was part of the family.  She was practically jumping up and down with excitement.  Although, I would say she was probably excited I was coming in with good news and not uncontrollably crying in her office. 

There were still some tears.  We talked about you.  She mentioned that this didn't replace you or make us forget you which I appreciated.  I am so afraid that people assume once your little brother or sister is here that we will forget about you.  I just want you to know that will never happen.  You will forever be our first baby.  Our precious little boy who we love so much.  We just need someone here to love too.

So now you have a job.  You are to watch your little brother or sister grow and keep them out of harm's way.  You need to make sure he/she makes it safely into this world.  They need to be healthy and alive and I'm trusting you to make this happen. 

The doctor wrote us a note to get an early scan since she knows I'm a ball of nerves.  We dropped it into the hospital and it was our first time back since your PM results.  It's our first time in the hospital that doesn't have anything to do with you.  I felt physically ill going back in there and your father said he felt the same.  I don't know how we are going to get through the next nine months when we have to keep going into that hospital.  I feel like every scan is going to give me heart palpitations until we see a heartbeat every time.

When we handed the letter to the secretary and it mentioned your death she still wasn't sure we would get an early scan.  This made me so angry!  Here I was on the verge of tears from having to walk in there and the secretary said that your death was not due to any genetic issues so I shouldn't need an early scan.  I held it in check but by God I was so close to losing it.  Thankfully she went to check one of the sisters and came straight back saying it was fine.  At least the sister knew to say yes and understood our need to have this done.  So on December 9th we hopefully get to see your little brother or sister. 

Please help them thrive over the coming months and watch out for them.  Help your mom and dad get through the next nine months without going completely crazy.

We miss you so much and will need you more than ever over the coming months.

Dear Andrew,

Why is it some days seem bearable and other days tears will come at the drop of a hat?

I can't understand myself or why some days I'm inconsolable and other days I can manage ok.  It doesn't make sense to me.  Part of me feels guilty on the days that I am ok because I feel like I should be sad about what happened to you all the time.  I know in reality I couldn't be like that forever.  It would be too hard to exist in a constant state of pain forever.  But I know a part of me will always miss you and always feel your presence missing from our lives.

I just so badly want you to be here.  I don't even care if all you did was cry and fuss.  At least you would be here.  It's one of those days where it is so hard to get my head around the fact that you aren't here but that you were at one point.  It's hard to reconcile the fact that you were alive inside of me but never outside of me.  I don't even want to think about the fact that you died inside me.  It still makes me want to scream every time I think of it.

I'm writing to you because I miss you, and I love you, and I want you to know that even on the days where I seem ok and am not crying at your grave that I am still thinking of you.  I am still missing you.  I am always loving you.

Dear Andrew,

November 7th

We got some good news today. You should have a little brother or sister in July 2014. Fingers crossed that everything goes ok. Please watch out for him or her and guide them safely into thus world. I trust you to do that for us.

I have to say we were shocked that it happened so quickly. Your dad made me take two tests but he is so excited. We both are excited and anxious and worried and excited again. It's going to be a scary nine months so you need to keep close and help me stay strong.

I love you so much and your little brother or sister will never replace you. They will know all about you and visit you. We are just hoping another baby will help ease our suffering and add a little happiness in this quiet house.  I hope you understand.

Miss you and love you loads,

Mom

Dear Andrew,

Your room is getting dusty.  It's filled with everything we bought for you over the short nine months of your life but never used.  Well, it's more like brimming over with everything we bought you.  There just isn't enough room and I will never have the heart to get rid of anything.  If anything I keep adding.  I've already knit you two more baby blankets.  I guess you can never have enough blankets buddy.

But I love having your room set up because on days like today I can go in there and think about what it would be like to have you here.  Five months to the day since you were stillborn.  What are the milestones for a baby that is five months old?  I don't even know.  I know you should be making lots of noise, providing lots of cuddles, and probably screaming your head off at us.  You should be a little roly poly ball of baby pudge with brownish red curls and big eyes.  You should have that baby smell that is just so perfect.  And you should be here for us to dote on.  You should be looking to your father and I for comfort but also being a little bit adventurous and curious as to what's around you.  We should be enjoying bath time and reading you books.  We should be so in love with who you are now rather than who you were and will always be.  You will never change from that newborn photo that we have of you and it makes me wonder what we have missed out on not being able to watch you grow up.

Your father always used to talk to you in my belly so that you would know his voice when you arrived.  He loved to tell you how it was going to be when you arrived.  How you were going to sleep though the night and always listen to him (yeah right!).  He used to tell you not to be like me since I'm stubborn and never listen to him and to never listen to the music I was forcing on you.  He was convinced if I kept playing it you were going to burst out of that womb as a hipster!

He loves you so much and always will.  He still talks to you like you are right here with us.  And in some ways you are and hopefully somewhere you are listening to us.  You are so engrained in who we are now it's hard to remember how our lives were before you were in them.

So today, for the first time since you've left, will not be filled with tears.  Today I am going to appreciate the time I had with you and the three of us as a family.  There will be plenty of time for tears but not today on your five month birthday.

I know this is all over the place but that's how my thoughts of you are.  One minute I'm thinking about what could have been and the next I'm thinking about when you were here.  The one thing I rarely think about is when we lost you because I think that is still just too scary.  I'm still not ready to relive those moments.

Happy five months baby.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

We are only a couple days away from five months of losing you.

The other day I was cleaning your room and trying to organize the mess that is your crib.  I went to put your memory box in the drawer under your crib and  my breathe caught in my throat.  All of your little 6-9 month clothes were sitting there, unused where I had left them after they were washed.  You should be wearing those little baseball footie pjs right now.  You should be in your vibrating chair, playing with the little mobile on your crib, and being read that big stack of books we bought you.  Instead, I go in there to dust your room and cry and hold your clothes.  We still have the clothes you wore in the hospital but I haven't been able to hold those.  They are still stained from you wearing them and I can't stand the thought of anything happening to them.  They are nearly as precious as your hair and footprints and pictures.

So all of the emotion of the past five months hit me in that one moment where I sat on your floor and sobbed for you and the future that we won't have with you.  Thankfully your father was in the other room watching football and couldn't hear me.  It upsets him so much to see me so distraught and he's having a very hard time without you too.

On the really bad days I cuddle with your bear.  It weighs exactly the same as when you were born (8 pounds 15 ounces) and cuddles right into my shoulder.  On the days that I can manage to move and not be frozen with grief your bear sits in your little frog chair with the bear that has been on your grave the past few months.  But it was filthy and needed to be washed.  I will return it to you at some point but it's also nice having something that was close to you for so long in our house.

I love you and miss you.

Dear Andrew,

It's been a hard week for some reason.  The hardest week in a couple months.  Missing you seems to have gotten worse and seeing pictures of your cousin make me realize everything we are missing out on with you.  He's so big and you should be too!  There have been a lot of tears this week and a lot of pity parties but I just can't get my head around why this happened to you and why you aren't here.  I know I sounds like a broken record but this is the biggest and worst thing that has ever happened to me and I suppose I'm just having trouble processing that you are gone forever.

My mind constantly goes back to that Thursday evening when I felt you leave me.  How did I not know?  Me, who was so paranoid about your kicks.  I suppose on the Friday I knew there was something wrong but I just didn't want to admit it.  The thought of losing you was too much.  And then it became real that night and now this is the rest of my life.  Missing you and loving you and the overwhelming sadness.

I just wonder if we will ever be happy again.  Will we have a little brother or sister for you that will run around the house and bring us some joy or will you be our only child? Will we forever have this quite house and yearning for someone to fill it with noise only to be left wanting?  I know it's only been five months but I feel the lack of your presence more than ever and am scare for the future and of the past at the same time.

I love you and miss you more each day.