Sweet Isabelle

This was a letter I wrote on January 21, 2010. I guess I deleted it and didn’t empty my recycling bin and I forgot about it. I decided I wanted to share it with you because it was intended to be a blog post but It was such an emotional day.

Dear Isabelle,
Today is your sixth birthday, and I miss you so much. I hate that you were taken away from me. I only got to see you once on my ultrasound and you were already gone. I still cry for you since you cannot. I miss you and I think about you every day. I wonder what you would have looked like. What you would like to do? I feel like a part of me is missing. I know you are looking down on me and I just wish I had the chance to hold you in my arms and to sing to you. I wish you could be with me and your brother Noah. I wish my pain would go away but it hasn’t really gone anywhere. It is easier to cope with it. I have learned to tolerate it. I can’t believe it has been so long since I lost you. It seems like just yesterday. I dream about you and the day I lost you. I love you Isabelle Rose. Noah loves you too. You would have loved him. He is the sweetest little boy.

I still feel extremely guilty about what happened. I hate that I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t have stopped it, I know that. It just makes me all so sad. If only I would have known that my body was messed up. I would have fixed it. I wish I would have prayed more. I hate your dad for praying for this. I am still heartbroken and there is emptiness. I was left with empty arms. I took so much crap from losing you. I was told to get over it, that I deserved it and many other heartbreaking cruel things. I had the housekeeper at the hospital ask me if I had my baby yet. I told her that my baby died. The housekeeper ignored the sign on my door. She didn’t know but it broke my heart.

I spent the day in the hospital pretty much in a daze. It seemed like a horrible dream that I couldn’t wake up from. I lost a lot of blood and I was weak. They had to stop and hope they got everything. I remember your family was discussing their blood types because I was probably going to need a blood transfusion. I ended up not needing it. You weren’t going to come out on your own. My body still thought I was pregnant. I just wanted to crawl in bed and be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I was a mess. The day I came home from the hospital I went in to my bed and cried all day and night. I did that for a long time.

I felt like my soul had left me. I was so alone. I felt like no one understood. I was surrounded by many people but I felt so alone. The emptiness ate at me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know about you. I was so excited. I had already started buying you clothes. I came home and your stuff was hidden, it was all out because I was looking through it the night before I went to the hospital. I remember lying there looking at you on the monitor. I felt pure joy until they told me you didn’t have a heartbeat then I felt the worst sorrow and pain I had ever felt. I was so upset I couldn’t see I just wanted to vomit over and over. Your dad yelled at the doctor and threatened to hurt him. The ER doctor was cold which I am sure he had to learn to numb his pain. The only thing I had to remember you was a picture of you and you had already passed away and a little gold ring that I wore around my neck for 3 years straight. I still have your giraffe and I still play the music and hold it and think of you and cry. I miss you and love you little Isabelle Rose.
Love,
Mommy.