My dearest baby boy. It has been four months since I kissed your cheek and held you in my arms, four months since I had to say goodbye to you, before I ever really said hello to you. I don’t remember exactly what I said to you before the nurses took you away for the last time. I think I said, “You are perfect. I love you. I will love you forever.” But what words are really adequate to say to you before they took you away from me for the last time?
I miss you, Sidney. I miss you so much. We spent the first part of the day at a playground and pool. And then we were invited to a BBQ. I don’t think we would have been invited if you hadn’t died. We were invited by a kind mother from the temple, a mother who saw my pain over losing you and reached out. Your brother enjoyed playing in the large backyard, running around. I talked to a pregnant woman, who has a 3.5 year old. I remembered being like that woman. I listened to a midwife at the party talk about home births. I thought about how out of place I felt, how lost I am without you. And I missed you. I constantly miss you.
As I write this letter, I think about how if you were really going to read this, I would make the letter more positive. I would not lie–we try not to lie to Eli and I wouldn’t lie to you–but I wouldn’t want to only tell you of my sorrows, to put the burden for my broken heart on you. So it is hard to know how to craft a letter to you, my precious little son.
Eli has been talking about you more these past few days. He went back to school for the year, to his new class. We had to make a poster about Eli and his family to hang on the school wall. We have no picture that adequately captures our family. So Eli picked out a red heart sticker, and we wrote a big S on it. S for Sidney. S is one of the letters that Eli can identify, my dear boy, and he knows your name starts with S. And red is his favorite color. I asked Eli if he wanted to put it on his poster, and he said yes. He said that it represented that he was a big brother still, even though you died. And yesterday, we took a drive. We went to a new playground a few counties over, to get to the countryside. And Eli picked a flower. He said, “Here, mama. This flower is for baby Sidney.” You need to know you are remembered. You need to know you are wanted and loved, even though you are not here with us. My heart aches for you, my dear boy. It always will.
Sweet dreams, my beautiful Sidney Louis. Sweet dreams.
I love you, always and forever.