Nothing worse than the silence after

 1 year, 7 months, 1 week, 3 days.

Mommy misses you more than words.

I miss holding your tiny little body.

I miss how you felt as a 5 pounder on my chest, skin to skin.

I miss your little screech.

It feels like a nightmare I once had.

But then I have random memories I cannot escape throughout each day...and I know it really happened...

You were ours for a split second, than without any warning, gone in a blink of an eye.

When the on call ER doctor finally reported to us that there was nothing they could do for you, I felt like I was going to die.

 I wished it, in fact. I wanted to be the one back in that room, to allow both of us to escape the pain.

It was like stepping into hell for a moment in time.

Kissing your warm yet going cold head and cheeks, trying to process and take in all that was happening, and trying to remember you...forever.



Not enough time to take you in. After 1 year and 7 months, Mommy fights to remember how you felt, what you smelled like and how you looked. I often look to our pictures scattered of you in our home to trigger a memory.

Having the nurses and doctors dissipate and leave me alone with you as we rocked. I don't even know if you were still alive at that point.

You were so still. Your little hands were down. I wanted to shake you back to life so bad.

There's no worse sound I have ever heard than the silence coming from you in that moment.

Handing you to whomever I did for the very very very last time was indescribable.

Walking out of that hospital...

Going home...

Trying to eat...  Sleep...   talk...   breathe

Now I live my life without you. The silence you left behind is sometimes excruciating.

You, my firstborn ....will never be here again. Never.

You will always be missing. Always.


I will always have to struggle through questions about our kids.

You don't get to be the big sister I really wish you could be right now.

I don't know anything about you. What makes you cry or smile or laugh. I don't even know if you are ticklish or what color eyes you ended up having.

Sometimes my soul just hurts.

It's not bitter anymore, just overcome with sadness sometimes, that part of me is missing.

The gift of your little sister has helped awaken my soul again to joy and hope. Before her, death was all around me. I was walking through the valley of it. With her new precious little soul, life has begun to blossom. Where there once was darkness, there is a beam of light. We are so thankful for her.

She has helped my soul find some healing.

Her life. Her sweet heart.

Her ....noise.

...has helped my heart break away from the silence you left behind.

And one day, when life is not mine anymore, Jesus knows, your voice will be the first I will want to hear.