Thursday, November 5, 2009

Four Months

Nov 3, 2009

Dear Sierra,

Has it really been four months? Four months since we said hello and goodbye, since I held you - tiny and perfect and so heartbreakingly still and silent. How I wish I could have seen you alive, even if only for a short time. I still remember how the tip of my index finger just fit on your little cheek and how prominent your cheekbones were. I'm so sorry you were so thin, struggled so much those last few weeks inside me. That was all I could say to you that day as I held you - I love you and I'm so sorry.

You were born four months ago today, in the summer, when the days were at their longest. Now it's nearly dark when I leave work, and geese rise from the canal and fly honking into the dusk. The trees have changed from bright green, to brilliant orange, pink, red, and yellow, to more muted gold, amber, and brown. Most of the leaves are on the ground now. I wish you could see all this change, wish you were here, tucked warmly against me in a sling. Your brother has always loved fall leaves; even as a tiny baby he would focus on their colors and movement. I bet you would have too.

Last night Daddy and I talked about you for the first time in a while. Daddy sees you as a tomboy, as I was growing up. He thinks you'd be a feisty little one, capable of fending off your older brother's rough affection - or returning it in kind. We both love and miss you very much, and we hope you are with your uncle.

I wish I knew where you were, baby girl. I want to think that our energy continues on in some way after we die, that we go somewhere else, but I don't know where that somewhere is. Twice I've thought your uncle was with me. I see you everywhere and nowhere. Did you choreograph the moonrise for me tonight, lovebug? It was gorgeous; I got out of the truck and stood at the edge of the canal, watching the huge, orange moon rise over the water and turn the edges of the clouds pink and silver. Ducks quacked and leaves rustled in the wind, it was not quite dark, I was alone. It was all very peaceful.

I miss you so much, Sierra. The longing to have you alive, whole and healthy in my arms is just as strong as the day you were born - even stronger maybe, now that we've passed your due date and you should most definitely be here. I wish things had worked out differently - I'm so sorry that they didn't.

All my love,


  1. I wish things had worked out differently too. I wish your feisty little girl was here with her parents and her big brother.

    I also wonder where my daughter is. I hope that she is safe somewhere, just as I hope that your precious Sierra is with her uncle. xo

  2. I wish things had turned out differently. I wish Sierra was here to see the beauty of this world with you.

  3. I'm so sorry Sierra is not with you. :(