Dear Evy:

August 30, 2014

Evelyn, I could feel you with me tonight. I really needed you, and you were there. This whole week, one sentence has been going through my mind. Not sure why there are some different days, times, moments I fixate on, but usually they are not the positive thoughts. But when I stopped by the cemetery this evening, I felt you next to my cheek. Best feeling in the world to comfort me when I’m thinking of the worst feeling in the world.

My fixation has been on the most dreaded words a parent could ever imagine. It was Wednesday, late evening, your last day. We were exhausted. It was the longest day. You had crashed 2 or 3 times already, one of the times your dad and I were in the room watching. They had just switched you to a new ventilator. This one was louder and shook your lungs so that they would stay open to pump the oxygen for you so that your little body didn’t have to struggle. I had to lay down. I was overwhelmed. I curled up and shut my eyes. It was a twenty minute nap. I am thankful for that nap because it gave me enough strength to get though the hardest part of my life.

I was woken up by your dad and a nurse. Instantly I jumped up and asked “Oh no, what’s wrong?!?” The nurse said that nothing has changed. Oh I could breath again. But when I took my eyes off of you and looked back at the nurse, I could tell she had more to say.

“You need to prepare yourself that she might die.”

Worst words in the world. I had never thought that would be the final outcome. I had so much hope.

She said we needed to decide on how long we wanted them to keep trying to prolong your life. I had so many questions. Well what were your chances? Are you worried about all of the fluid? Is the expensive medicine working? They said that they were worried about all the fluid building up inside of your body and that eventually the medicine to keep your heart beating would stop working. Devastating answers. I didn’t want to give up on you though. But they just kept pushing epinephrine which was the only way to keep your blood pressure high enough. After my millions of questions and the hopeless answers, I looked at you through my tears. I mean I really looked at you. You weren’t my baby anymore. You weren’t my Evelyn. You had so many needles and bandages all over you tiny body. You had gained so much weight from all of the fluids that they were pushing but you couldn’t expel. You were so swollen. You had tried so hard but now it just looked like torture. I knew it was time to let go. It was time to say goodbye and let your little body rest.

So as those words resinate in my head: “You need to prepare yourself…”, it was nice to really feel you with me. I need more days like that Evelyn. More times to feel your sweet breath or your soft skin touching my cheek. I pray to you daily to give me strength and to watch over the three of us here on Earth. I don’t pray for you because I know where you are and that you have no more pain. Only joy.

Your Aunt Bug just sent me this song and it seems fitting. I know you are dancing and cuddling up on Jesus’ cheek with your slobbery open mouth kisses 🙂 Love you so much. Goodnight sweet baby girl.