To My Daughter on Her First Birthday

My darling Sadie Ann,

It has taken me quite a bit longer to write this letter than what I initially thought. I guess really sitting down and wrapping my mind around the reality that you are one year old is a lot more difficult than I even imagined. It seems surreal because time, in this past year, has lost it's meaning and become the biggest blur of my life.

In the days and weeks following your birth, there was no certainty of a celebratory birthday in your future - that was our reality a year ago. And yet, here we are. Celebrating and thanking the Ultimate Physician for everything you've overcome. Your strength. Your willingness to fight and preserver. In your short, one year life, you've faced more than some face in a lifetime. You've proven that 23 weekers should be given the chance to be called "viable" (mommy, hates that word!). And through this past year, you've already been an inspiration to so many. You've introduced faith to some, restored faith for others, brought people to their knees for the first time, and provided motivation for others.

A year ago I couldn't touch you. Your chance at surviving was small. If you did survive, it was likely that you would have significant health issues beyond the NICU. We were told that you'd face pulmonary difficulty throughout your life. We were told the extra steroids you required for your lungs could possibly cause brain damage and developmental deficits. We were told you could likely never walk due to a growing brain hemorrhage. We were told your prematurity and need for oxygen would most likely result in some degree of blindness. But, we were also told every baby is different.

You crushed the NICU. The first two months were challenging and terrifying, but once you were finally off of your breathing machine (it was a long 59 days) you took off! Two months after that we carried you out of those doors and welcomed you home. You left that NICU without any need for medication or supplemental oxygen, your brain bleeds resolved, and a few months later you were cleared by the retina specialist and pediatric ophthalmologist with perfect vision. Seeing who you are a year later, it's hard to believe where you started out.

So many people you've never met - that mommy and daddy never met - have prayed for you. Have been on their knees crying out for your health. You are easily the most prayed for human that I know. And even greater than that, the God of this Universe, took the time to listen to all of our cries and answer them. You are a beautiful example of the power of prayer. Your story will always include a world-wide group of prayer warriors.

Despite all the trails and hardships you've faced, you are happy. The constant smile on your face reminds me daily of how far you've come. Your laugh brings me to tears because of all it represents - strong lungs, typical brain function, social skills, and, of course, a baby that is happy. Your personality shines bright every day. Your idiosyncrasies melt my heart. I adore the sounds you make, how serious you become when you're "talking", I love how you aimlessly rub my hand or chest when you are drinking your bottle as you fall asleep, my heart explodes hearing the sweet sounds you make right before you fall asleep, I love starting every single day receiving a smile from you as I walk into your room to get you out of your bed, I love how you root into my chest when you're tired, I love the excitement on your face when I give you two play cups to bang together, I love how you absolutely lose control in complete happiness when I start singing You Are My Sunshine - but the truth is you are.

I've never experienced this type of joy and happiness simply by loving another human being. My love for you is indescribable. It's only a feeling that I have the complete pleasure of feeling every day and for the rest of my life.

You are my sunshine, my joy, and my love.

Mommy loves you more than you will ever know. Happy first birthday, baby girl!

xo,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter on Her First Heavenly Birthday

Our sweet, precious Mary Elliott,

First and foremost, what an undeserved pleasure it was to be hand picked by our Lord to be your earthly mommy. Your time here was fleeting and painfully short, but oh, so significant - and I have the privilege to call you mine. We get to call you ours.

You were such a strong little girl here on earth. How you managed to stay stay inside of me for seven weeks after losing all your fluid, and never retaining it, I will never know or completely comprehend. But you did it. You stayed still and strong. God was undoubtedly with you.

The days following your short life here on earth, I continuously held on to the loss of you. I contemplated why you were placed inside of me and then taken away so quickly. When I was pregnant, I'd spend days dreaming about holding you in your nursery, watching you play and giggle with your sister, and enjoying each day as you grow. Then, in the blink of an eye, all those precious moments I looked forward to were stolen. They would never happen. And after your untimely exit, in those first few weeks, I couldn't help but focus on all of those daydreams never playing out. They were stripped away from my life.

As time passed, I continued to pray for you and think about you daily; I then considered that you were never meant to stay in this world. Maybe you were never meant to grow up in front of me. Those daydreams of you and your sister together would only ever be memories I created on my own - and while this is a painful reality, it's also beautiful. As I made this realization, I began to wonder why exactly you were placed inside of me? Why would a precious life be given to me and then taken away before I could even grasp the reality that you were gone?

I've thought of a thousand different scenarios and I will never really know until I can ask the Lord. But for right now, while I continue to graze this world with my simple mind, I will clutch onto the most beautiful reason I can imagine. A reason that makes it all bearable.

You were placed inside of me to save your sister's life. 

It all makes a little more sense this way - and hurts a bit less. Since your conception and early days inside of me were so closely monitored, I know that you came along a couple days after Sadie Ann. I imagine God foreseeing a rupture during my pregnancy. He sent you along to be the lower baby and to take the rupture that would not heal. He gave you strength to remain inside of me for seven weeks. Until you and your sister were 23 weeks and 2 days - possibly the exact gestational age your sister needed to be to then survive outside of my womb. This, I imagine, is why you were given to me and why you were placed inside of me. Your purpose in this life.

Whether this is the reason or not, you still saved your sister's life through your strength. She's here with us because you held on each day following your rupture. Each morning that I had an ultrasound and we didn't see any fluid around you my heart broke a bit more, but I was always thankful you were hanging in there despite the undesirable circumstances. So today I not only admire your strength, but thank you for your strength. Because of it, I do get to hold your little sister each and every day. I do get to watch her play, learn, and giggle. I've watched her over the past year smash statistics, beat odds, and show the world what a miracle baby looks like. And I thank you for that. You helped provide her with that chance. 

So here we are, a year later. It still hurts. I still cry. I never know when it will hit me, but when it does, it hits hard. I'm confused all over again; I'm angry, in incredible pain, and I lose myself in the uncontrollable tears. I want to drop to my knees and scream because it hurts so bad. This is something I've come to grips with over the past year and that I will experience for the rest of my life. I will forever grieve the loss of you because there's no getting over the loss of a child - no matter how long or short their lives here were.

On the day you were born, after the chaos of the room cleared out and I was rolled away to a quiet and empty post-pardum room, I had so many of my sweet L&D and antepartum nurses come by to express their sorrow and sympathy for our loss and the new situation that was in front of us. That afternoon was easily a blur, but there was one conversation I remember so vividly. A nurse came in my room, sat on my bed with me, and held my hand. She told me:

You haven't lost anything if you know where it is.

It was so profound and exactly
what I needed to hear. It gave me hope in that dreadful situation and it's something I've reminded myself of countless times in the past year. I haven't lost you because I know exactly where you are. My faith gives me hope and confidence that one day I will hold you again. Your eyes will be open, your lungs will be strong, and the tears that fall from my face onto yours will be tears of complete joy. Oh I look forward to that day.

Until then… Every day I think of you, but especially this week and on December 16th. Your beauty and purpose puts a smile on my face despite the pain of not having you here. I love you, oh, so much! I miss you daily, but I know you will have the most incredible day celebrating your first year in heaven! I can only imagine what it must be like. I love you. Happy First Heavenly Birthday, sweet girl! 

Love,
Mommy

Mary Elliott

December 16, 2014

1lb 3oz, 12.5" long

Letters for Our Twins // No. 001

I wrote this letter to our twins while laying in bed the night before our gender ultrasound. I planned to post it that morning, but didn't get around to it. Then, two days later we found ourselves in the hospital with a long road ahead of us. I recently found it as a draft and wanted to share it. As I mentioned below, I had plans of writing them multiple letters, and I may write them additional letters on here, but my weekly updates are covering most everything that's going on week to week.

--------------------------

10/28/14
9:16 p.m.

Dear babies,

I had intentions of writing you notes since the day we found out I was pregnant. I wanted to capture and document all the wonderful feelings going through my mind from the time we found out about you up until the point where we get to hold you, but one of the many lessons I have the privilege of teaching you in this lifetime is that it's better late than never. So here I am, finally starting to write to you.

You two are about 16w4d - give or take - and I'm a couple weeks into my second trimester. Baby A, in the beginning of the pregnancy, you were almost a week behind baby B - in fact, you didn't even have a heartbeat at our very first ultrasound, but our nurse practitioner ensured us that you were fine and would have one the following week. And you did! You've actually complete caught up with your sister! In our recent doctor's visits, you've both been within a day or two of each other and we couldn't be happier!

I'm writing to you tonight because tomorrow is a special day and I want you to know what I'm going to be thinking about all night while I try to fall asleep. If you two cooperate, we will hopefully find out if you are two little girls, two little boys, or a little girl and little boy. And we cannot wait! I'm thinking in the morning I may eat a sugary breakfast to get you two moving about. Well, mostly just you, baby A. Baby B, you are our little acrobat; we've had a lot of ultrasounds since receiving the good news and without fail, you are wiggling, twisting, and flipping. Always! Baby A, you're our docile, laid back child (like your mommy). Every now and then we see you wiggle those arms (I think we even have a picture of you waving at us), but you're usually comfy and cozy just laying on your back, all curled up. So hopefully some sugar will get you moving!

Since learning and sharing the good news that we are expecting twins, we've had countless people ask the same question… "What do you want the babies to be?" Our answer is always the same. We. Don't. Care. We are so thrilled and thankful to have you two growing in my belly - our only prayer and hope is that you two are healthy. And that's what we tell everyone. That's always our answer.

I've heard that mothers often just know what they are having - they have this maternal instinct that tells them. Well that may be true for singletons - or maybe it's true for most women and even those having multiples, but I don't know. Well, I do. But not the way that other mothers just know. I'll get to that in a minute.

I haven't paid too much attention to any Old Wives Tales because those are centered around singletons as well. I do know that at almost 17 weeks I'm still nauseous and that since finding out I was pregnant, my face has been breaking out like a teenager entering into puberty. I haven't had any cravings. It's  been quite the opposite - in the first trimester I wanted nothing to do with sweets (which, you will learn, is not like your mommy at all!). Don't worry though, my sweet tooth is back - I've actually been drinking a lot of sweet tea (which I haven't done in years) - I even made some not long ago. And it was delicious! I'm sure y'all enjoyed it too! So I've had pregnancy symptoms that are kind of all over the place. None indicating one thing or the other - only that I have a ton of extra hormones running though this body of mine!

I will say that about two years ago I started having a feeling that one day I would have twin girls. It was an out of the blue feeling. It seemed like every time I turned around, I saw twin girls. It felt as though God was bombarding me with the idea of twins girls so that it would become a normal thought of mine - one day I will have twin girls. And after a while, I believed knew it. At an earlier part of my life, I wasn't very keen on the idea of twins - and I usually pictured myself with boys. Lots of little boys. So if I feel anything at all… it would be twin girls. In fact, I know you are twin girls, but very few people know that - just your daddy and my best friend, Jessica. Your daddy and I talk about it quite a bit. I'll share with you in a separate letter a little more detail about all this.

No matter what that ultrasound shows tomorrow, our hearts will be full! We are overflowing with excitement! Not that this pregnancy doesnt seem real, because it is very real, but I feel like once we know what you are, things will become very real, very fast. I'll start registering, buying you little things here and here, and begin planning a nursery. Up until this point you've both been baby A and baby B - and I've loved it. After tomorrow you will have a more distinct identity. And soon after that you will have names. Names!

I'm so happy to finally sit down and write to you. Here's to many more letters!

Love you so much already,
Mommy