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My dearest Sonne --

The days seem to pass so quickly.  A year passed so quickly and here we are in the midst of the holiday season again.  It feels harder this year.

I'm sad.  I'm angry.  And every emotion is heightened with a giant exclamation point.

!!!!!

I know life isn't fair.  I've known that for a very long time.  But I cannot fathom why.

?????

The one idea that gives me some solace comes from the Buddhist philosophy.  In short, when a baby or child dies, the belief is that person only had a small lesson left to learn before achieving Nirvana.  That their karma was such that they were able to leave suffering behind forever.

I know I'm not stating that quite right, but that's the gist of it.

While you were here, you were so calm.  You were put through so much in your short life and yet you always seemed at peace.  Perhaps the Buddhists were right.  Perhaps you only had a little more to learn before leaving the cycle of life behind.  If that's the case, then I feel honored that you chose our family to care for you during this last go around.

And yet...

Things just seem harder this year.  Perhaps we were on auto-pilot last year, just powering through to try and make the holidays feels "normal."  Perhaps this year we just need "normal" to be more emotionally authentic.  I'm not sure what that means, per se, but I do know that something is different this year.  

Your loss feels more poignant.  More final.  More punctuated.

I love you and miss you.

Always...mommy

One Year Later

My Dearest Sonne --

A year has passed since we said goodbye to you.  Some days are good.  Some are awful.  You are never far from our thoughts and you are always in our hearts.

I will forever be grateful for the time we had with you.  Thoughts of your smile brighten my days.  Remembering the way you always seemed happy, despite the poking and prodding of doctors and nurses, fills me with such pride.  You were such an easy baby.

We are proud of you.  You are our little, little and you are amazing.  You touched our lives in ways we never dreamed possible.

Your name means "sun" in German.  In so many ways you were perfectly named.  Your smile brightened the room and now you shine upon us every day.  I always felt an affinity for sunflowers and how, no matter what, they will lift their heads to face the sun every day.  And now, every day as I lift mine it is to you, my daughter.  You give me strength and hope.

We were in Hawaii a few weeks ago.  We saw your sunrise from the Haleakala crater.  It was magnificent.  Daddy watched from the lookout station while I sat in the car with Morgen.  She slept in my lap and I cried.  I told her more stories about you and how much we love you both.

During the days Morgen would chase waves on the beach while you shone down upon us.

In the evenings we would watch your sunset from the lanai.  You would bathe us all in the most beautiful light.  You never failed to put on a brilliant show.

Now back in Los Angeles we find ourselves wishing for a better view of the sunrise and sunset.  A better vantage point from which to glimpse your light.

With every sunrise we heal.  With every sunrise we remember.  With every sunrise we honor you and your life, albeit far too short.  And with every sunset we say goodnight and look forward to the morning when we get to bask in your glow again.

Wednesday was the first anniversary of your surgery.  As difficult as that day was, I am so thankful that the surgeon was delayed.  We had two more hours to hold you, to be with you, to see you smile. 

Yesterday I cried.  I cried long and hard for the times I wasn't with you.  I cried out my guilt over not being able to be in the hospital with you.  After nine weeks in the NICU, I just wanted to be home with my girls.  I didn't want to be separated from either of you, but I couldn't bear to be sitting in a hospital room.  The NICU was so different from CHLA. The nurses that Cedars became a kind of extended family.  We always had someone to talk to. The CHLA staff, while incredibly skilled, tended to leave us alone and I desperately didn't want to be alone. And yet I will always be thankful for your CTICU nurse Lily.  She had been caring for your since surgery and, though she was scheduled to have the day off, she came in to care for you on your last day. I suspect she knew your heart wasn't healing.  Even so, her willingness to be there for us meant so much.

And today I woke up feeling hopeful.  Perhaps it is because a year ago your struggles ended.  You were finally able to be at peace.  You were finally free.

Your Oma and Opa are here with us today. The family is heading to the garden to your meadow.  Your Aunt Tanya and Uncle Chris are meeting us there too.  Your sun is shining and it is a beautiful day.  We are going to bask in your warmth and celebrate your life.  

109 days. 

Whoever could have predicted that a life so short would leave such an indelible mark upon so many?

We love you and miss you.  You are forever in our hearts.

Xoxoxoxoxo...Mommy, Daddy, and Morgen

Ps...Morgen just started walking this week.  I suspect she will show you herself while we are visiting. 

I Miss You

My dearest Sonne --


I miss you.


Love...Mommy.

Out of the Blue

My sweet Sonne --


A week ago I had a tough night.  We had tried to lay Morgen to sleep in her crib, but she awoke and started to cry.  She cried and cried and wailed and I felt so badly.  I scrambled to get ready for bed while your daddy tried to comfort her.


I was washing my face with tears streaming down it.  Something in the timber of her cry reminded me of your last night at home.  Daddy was flying to Massachusetts and I knew from the sound that something wasn't right.  I truly believed it was your reflux acting up.  I never imagined that you would be gone a mere two weeks later.


I was still crying when I walked back into the bedroom to see your daddy holding a whimpering Morgen. He was also crying.


All I could say to him, over and over, was "I didn't hold her enough.  I just want to hold her one more time."


Daddy said, "Every time I held her, you held her with me. I have to believe that because every time I held Sonne, I was also holding you and Morgen."


And yet we still want nothing more than to hold you.  Just one more time.


I was fairly inconsolable for the next hour.  I laid in bed holding Morgen, your daddy holding me.  We kept saying "I'm sorry" to one another and to her.  This isn't what we wanted.  For a brief moment I caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye.  I was holding Morgen but for a split second I swear I saw you.


I haven't cried like that in such a long time.  It truly caught me off guard.  It's not that I don't miss you and ache for you and think about you every day, but I'm usually in more control.


I'm so sorry baby girl.  I wish I would have held you more.  I wish I would have been more present while you were at Children's Hospital.  It wasn't that I didn't love you or want to be with you.  I just couldn't handle being back at the hospital. You had barely been home for five weeks.  I just wanted things to be normal.  For us to be together as a family.


I still remember being with you the night before your surgery.  The nurse brought in a bottle because nursing from my breast had been too taxing as of late.  You kept pushing the bottle away and so I did the only thing I could think to do and offered you a breast.  You nursed with such enthusiasm.  I will never forget that moment.


I remember playing with you the morning of your surgery and how much you were smiling.  So trusting.  So happy.  So full of life.


I'm so thankful for all you gave us and continue to give through your memory.


I can't believe we are coming up on your birthday.  Celebrating the occasion without you is going to be so painful.  We are having a BBQ.  Friends and family are going to be there with us.  Celebrating Morgen's first birthday and celebrating your 109 days.  I hope you like the idea of cupcakes because I'm making cupcakes with yellow frosting for you.  Lots of little yellow suns to help brighten the day.


I love you little little.  Forever.


xoxo...Mommy

As Time Passes

My dearest Sonne --


Time keeps passing.  In five weeks we will be celebrating the birth of you and Morgen.  It's hard to believe that a year ago I would lay in bed at night and feel you moving inside of me.  You were always the active one.  Morgen would just hang out and crush my bladder, but you kept moving and tickling me from the inside.  You made sure I knew you were there just itching to come out and make your mark on the world.


And that you did.  You made your mark on the world and on my soul.


You are a part of me.  And while I ache still because you are gone, if I believe you to be a part of me, which I do, then you live on.  You will never truly be gone.


And if you believe the idea that we are all one, which I strive to believe, then you are all around me.  You are in Morgen.  You are in your daddy.  Your Nana and Papa, your Oma and Opa, your Aunts and Uncles and cousins.  If we are all one, then you live on in each of them and in all those who knew you and even in all those who are strangers.  And by loving each of them and myself, I can still shower you with all the love in my heart.


If we are all one, then we are always together and we will never truly be apart.


And yet I ache to hold you.  Especially at night.


The other night Morgen curled up on me in bed, her head resting comfortably against my chest.  Just like you used to do, especially in the hospital.  And I cried and I whispered to her stories about you and about how much we love you both.


I long to see the two of you growing together.  I can only imagine how you would be at just shy of 11 months old.  I can only dream of how much you and Morgen would be impacting one another.  Would you be talking to each other all the time?  Would you be chasing each other around the house?  Would you be sleeping cuddled up together in the crib?  Would you....?


The questions are endless.


I have The Mutzy Twins picture on my desk.  As exhausted as I was when I took that picture, it is one of my favorites.  You two in a moment of glory.  You were such a little beauty.


I love you Sonne.  My little little.  My love.  My sunshine.


xoxo...Mommy.

Your Great Grandmother Vi

Hello my little, little --


You were on my mind a lot this past weekend.  Your daddy, sister, and I traveled to Arkansas to see your great grandmother Viola Sharp.  We had a lovely visit.  Morgen charmed her quite completely and your daddy learned lots about your Nana's family and, through that, he learned more about me.


Daddy also showed her some videos of you.  She was taken with your bright eyes and happy smile.  We showed her lots of pictures of you as well and said you were just beautiful.  So it seems that you are still able to capture the hearts of people just through our recorded images and stories.


I shouldn't be surprised by that.  Especially when the person we are introducing your memory to is family. 


Your sister Morgen was quite smitten with GGMa.  She laughed and smiled and spent most of the visit rolling around the carpet in her apartment.  


I spent so much time watching her, whether at GGMa's or on the plane or our little rental apartment.  And, while I did so enjoy just watching her, I could not stop wondering what it would be like if we still had you with us.  I can hardly even imagine how much you would have changed by now and I cannot help but think of how different Morgen would be if she had her sister by her side.  And I long for that.


At one point I said, "I so wish you could have met Sonne, grandma.  She was such an amazing kiddo."


She said she would have liked that.  She went onto say that she didn't know what it was like and she supposed she never would since her three kids are all grown up with kids and grandkids of their own.


I found myself thinking, here is a woman who's lived nearly a century.  She's raised three children and buried her husband of 50+ years.  She lives in constant pain from her body slowly breaking down and, while her short term memory might not be the best, her long term memory is strong and she still very quick witted.  She's of an age where friends die.  She experiences loss on an all too regular basis and yet, she can't imagine what we have gone through.  I felt such compassion and empathy from her.  She knows, without actually knowing, that losing a child is akin to nothing else.  And it's not that others don't know this, but rather there was something about the way she conveyed it that touched me so deeply.


I'm not sure that we will see her again and that makes me sad.  And yet, she has lived a long, full life.  Yours was all too short, but I do believe it was full of that which matters most -- Love.


xoxo...Mommy.

Your Mobile

Hello my sweet Sonne --

I couldn't help but think of you this morning.  I put your mobile from Children's Hospital on the crib.  Morgen had been enjoying the one we got with the boats and whales, but it would only spin and play music for about a minute.  As soon as it would stop she would get upset and only calm back down as I would wind it up for another go.

Sound familiar?

I mentioned it to your daddy and asked if I could put your mobile up for her.  He said absolutely.

So this morning I plopped her in the crib and turned on your mobile.  She looked so content while watching the little animals go around above her.  I got ready for work and enjoyed knowing that she was happy.

I teared up a bit thinking about you.  I told Morgen that the mobile was a gift from you.  I smiled at her and she smiled back.  I like to think that you were sharing the moment with us as well.

Love you my little, little...Mommy.