**Trigger Warning – Baby Loss**
To my perfect little girl,
One less stocking, one less pile of presents, one less Christmas jumper to buy. These are the sorts of things that really make me miss you at Christmas. I know we weren’t lucky enough to ever get a Christmas with you but I had planned them. Oh, had I planned them. My twin girls in Christmas pudding outfits or pretty party dresses. It’s amazing how in just a few months your future can look so very different and even though it’s snatched away from you as quickly as it came it changes everything forever.
I can’t quite believe I’m writing another one of these. It doesn’t seem five minutes since the last time I wrote to you at Christmas. That was 5 months after you and your sister were born. The letter was raw; I was full of extreme emotions of all kinds. Now, this Christmas it all feels a bit different. It feels a bit calmer but also I think I feel a lot sadder than I did then. I think I was in shock still last Christmas, we had only just got your sister home and I was learning to be a Mum of two. She was vulnerable; still so very tiny and my head then was full of worry for her and your brother.
I miss you little one. I miss the future that you should have had with your sister and your big brother. He still talks about you now. Just the other day he asked how if you and your sister were both here how he would have told you apart. I giggled and said we would have had to have put a different coloured nail varnish on both of you. He liked that idea and went onto talking about something else. We were in the car at the time and it was a good job he couldn’t see me because tears were streaming down my face. I had put nail varnish in my hospital bag for that exact reason. It’s not really the big things that get me so much, it’s the little things like that that stop me in my tracks.
Your sister is doing you proud, she is a champion bum shuffler and is a sociable happy little girl. Your brother and her get on marvellously. I am so proud of them and often sit there watching them wondering what your role would have been in that sibling relationship. I wish we had got to see.
This grief process is a funny one and I think I thought I would be further along with it by now than I am. I know there are no rules, no time limits or cut off points but still, I thought I would find it a bit easier by now. I thought by now that I would have accepted that you had gone. Now I realise that acceptance probably isn’t something I will ever have. What I have learnt to do though is get through life one day at a time without you. I really have amazed myself at my own strength. The past year hasn’t been without it’s challenges though. I finished maternity leave and went back to work and my heart broke into a thousand pieces again. I couldn’t be there without reminders of you, of what could have been and it hurt. It hurt a lot more than I expected it to. I missed your sister too, I felt like I had missed out while she had been in hospital.
Sometimes I cry for you, sometimes I smile because I got to meet you and sometimes I don’t know how to feel but I have learnt to keep going. I will always keep going although sometimes it feels so overwhelming.
So, this Christmas as always you will be with us, in our thoughts and in our hearts. We miss you more than I thought possible and wish you were here to join in with your brother and sister on Christmas morning.
I hope we are all making you proud little one.
Merry Christmas beautiful girl.