Dear Isla,

Isla Rose you were truly the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Carrying you for 36 weeks and 4 days was the greatest experience of my life.

You have taught me so much. You have taught me about myself. You have taught me about others. You have taught me about love and time. Most importantly, you have taught me the love between a mother and her child.

Handing you over when we left the hospital was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt my soul ripped apart until that moment.

You took a piece of me with you.

In contrast, I’ve never felt such peace as I did when I saw you at the funeral home again a few days later. As soon as I saw your little face I felt so calm. I felt no more pain the whole time I was in that room with you. All I needed was you.

I needed to count those fingers and toes again. Squish your perfect little nose. Stroke your plump little cheeks. Run my fingers across your crazy thick hair. Hold your tiny little hand. Rub those little knees that had found a home in my ribs. Kiss every single inch of you.

Your daddy and I needed to talk to you. We needed to tell you how lucky we are to have you as our first baby. How lucky we are to have known you for your entire life. We needed to tell you thank you over and over for the gift you are to us and for everything you have taught us. We needed to tell you that one day you will be the best big sister in the world - because you will teach them things that living siblings cannot. We needed to tell you that we would never, ever forget you.

We needed to tell you how much we love you. And that our love will never, ever fade.

And now your body is gone from this world. I know that. And I’ll never get to do any of those things ever again. I’ll never truly come to terms with that. But I already feel your presence and love surrounding me as I begin my forever journey of grieving you. Your heart will always be a part of mine and every time I speak to you, I know you can hear me.

The pain and anguish I felt leaving you for the final time was covered by the joy that I felt for knowing and loving you. The joy I felt watching your daddy hold you and love you so deeply, giving you kisses and stroking your face. The joy I felt being able to share you with your grandparents and watch how deeply they love you too.

You gave us 9 months of love and I know you will continue that gift for the rest of our lives.

Now here I am with a postpartum body but no baby in my arms. And it’s so hard. Every ache and twinge I feel reminds me of bringing you into this world. And it also reminds me that while my mind knows that you are gone, my body does not. But one day it will stop. My body will fall into a new normal. I’ll never be the same as before - but that’s okay because it will always remind me of the privilege it was to carry you within me for as long as I could. The privilege to be the only home you ever knew. The privilege to be your mama.

I will never stop loving you. I will never stop thinking about you. I will never stop dreaming about you. I will never stop talking about you.

I love you forever, Isla Rose.

Love, Mama

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