I stood on a hill and I let you go

Dear Madelyn,

It's been a long time since I wrote you a letter. It's been a long time since I did any kind of self-reflection. Mostly because it hurts. My head and my heart are still very heavy, and if it's quiet for too long, I am afraid the pain will swallow me again like it did for a while.

But these days I feel more whole. These days I feel almost better. I miss you a lot. I try not to think about how this should be your first Christmas, and how I should be so stressed about flying to England with a 7 month old baby. Sometimes those thoughts get to me, but other times, a life with you seems so far away.

I was broken for a while, Maddie. Really, truly broken. After you died, I forged ahead like nothing could touch me. But it all caught up with me, and I was shattered. I still don't like to think about those months. I still carry pieces of them with me.

I was so afraid of breaking after I lost you. I thought that if I raced ahead without looking back, I could somehow avoid the devastation. What I didn't realize is that I had to break in order to mend. It wasn't until I let go of control and crumbled to the ground, that I can start to rebuild. I needed to be broken. I needed to be shattered. I needed to be gutted. I needed to be sad.

I feel like I am rebuilding now. I still have my moments, but I can feel hope and peace in a way I haven't felt in 8 long months.

I have often wondered why, after losing my baby, it was taking so long for me to be blessed with another one. I was angry, Maddie. So angry. I had my baby ripped from me, and couldn't get pregnant again. I screamed and yelled and sobbed and threw things. I withdrew and blamed and hid myself. I'm sure you saw. I'm sure you thought, "Just be patient, mom!" But I couldn't be. None of this made sense. Some days, it still doesn't.

But I realized something while walking through an empty field, toward a beautiful sunset on Thanksgiving afternoon- I needed this time. I needed to collapse in the dark, to fully understand the light. If I had gotten pregnant again before I had really grieved the loss of you, I can't imagine how I would be. I had to break. Now I have to rebuild. Then, maybe, you can talk Heavenly Father into sending down a younger sibling.

I breathed in the fresh air as I walked up a little hill all by myself during my sunset walk, and stared into the sky. I thought of you and how much I love you. I thought of how hard it was to lose you, and how hard it's been to accept that fact that I lost you. But I thought about how strong this has made me, and how blessed I feel just to have carried you. I thought how it was time for me to start being okay. I took in a deep breath and breathed out goodbye. I stood on a hill and I let you go.

I will still love you and miss you every day. I will see you in the faces of every little girl I ever meet. My arms will ache for your weight, and my heart will carry yours forever. But I am ready to let go, until I can be with you again.

Love always,

                Mama