1.5 years

Dearest Sidney,

It has been 1.5 years since I bore you.  I can’t believe that so much time has gone by.  I wish with all of my heart that you were here by my side, that we were celebrating you being 18 months old, and marveling at all the new things you were saying and doing.

I am having trouble writing this letter to you tonight.  I keep writing sentences and then deleting them, since nothing seems adequate, nothing captures the complexity of emotions that I have had this past year and a half, the pain I have over not being here with you.  I continue to have flash backs to the moment I found out that your heart stopped.  Mine did too.  In that moment, mine did too.  Or I will be driving, and I will flashback to driving home from work in early labor with you, talking to my mom on the phone and wondering when you would arrive.  Sidney, I love you.

We went to dinner tonight at the house of a family whose second child also died, a little girl.  Fifteen years ago.  Somehow deciding on names came up, and they talked about naming all three of their children, and so did we.  We included you, told the stories of Eli wanting to name you fireman, Eli or yucky.  It was nice to have someone that understood just a little bit.

Your Opa visited these past few days.  We went to the cemetery, knelt by your grave, straightened the stones that are there. Later, somehow, minivans came up.  He said, “Well, you don’t need such a big car since you only have two children.”  I have three, I thought, but you don’t need a physical seat.  I carry you in my heart.

I want to know you more, Sidney.  To hear you laugh.  To know your personality.  To watch you and Eli play and delight in each other.  To breathe in your smell and kiss your soft skin.  Sidney Louis.  I want new photos to post of you, funny stories to share about you.  But all I have is my memories of my pregnancy with you.  I look at your beautiful picture ever night.  I still always think of you.  I will always love you.  That will never change.  Always and forever.