6 months

Sweet baby boy, a few days ago, it was 6 months since I met you for the first time, first you held you in my arms, first heard you cry. My what a cry you had! You proved to us then that not only were you a fighter while you were inside of me, you were going to continue fighting as long as you could in the bright, scary world. We thought we might only have minutes with you. The doctors said you were having a hard time keeping your heartbeat up. Then they handed you to me, and with the steady beating of my heart, you were able to regulate yours. I felt your warm little body against my skin, felt your chest rise and fall. It was the most beautiful moment of my life. You felt like a dream. I couldn't believe that God had entrusted such a beautiful baby as you to me. To love and care for as long as you lived. Today, it has been six months since I said goodbye. 6 months since I last held you in my arms, last felt your strong little heart beat, least felt the rise and fall of your chest, or heard the little whimpers you made when we moved you fro67m my arms to your daddy's. That day was the hardest day of my life. I love you so much, and I never wanted to let you go. Never wanted to have to say goodbye. No matter how much time I got with you, it would have never been enough. I was never going to willingly let you go. But I knew you were ready. I knew that you had fought for as long as you could. I could tell you were tired and wanted to rest. So your dad and I agreed to let you. We held you, and loved on you, and made you as comfortable as we could. We watched as you took your last breath, and said goodbye. We knew you were going to a better place where there would be no more struggles, no more limitations on what your body was capable of. 6 months ago, we made the decision to allow you to be better off, regardless of how much it hurt us. Now, 6 months later, the pain is slightly more bearable. I don't spend as much time crying or feeling depressed. But on special days, or anniversaries, it is harder than on normal days. Last night I had a dream about you. You were surrounded by lots of people. All of my family members, including my dad, and all of Marc's family members. You were sitting up, laughing and babbling. You were perfect. There was no cleft that made it hard for you to eat, and your hair was blonde. You had blue eyes, like your daddy's, and you were so chubby. It was obvious to me how happy you were. You waved your hand at me and smiled. That is the first time I have dreamed of what you might be like instead of what you were. It is the first time that waking up made me sad that it couldn't continue, instead of being terrified of the nightmare and wishing it would end. I am sad that I don't get to have you with me, sweet boy, I am so very glad that you get to run and play in heaven with all the other Trisomy babies, and people that have passed on before me. I know you never met them here, but I really hope that you're hanging out with Addy and Hannah. Their moms are both very special people, and I think you'd be great friends. Make lots of friends, darling Tavish, and tell me all about them. I will see you again before you know it. Love, Momma