Dear Jenna

I haven't had much to say here lately but I have missed you incredibly. A year doesn't heal much, but it does get me closer to the day when we'll be together again. I went to your hospital today with Amy for her daughter's treatments. Thank God she's doing well :)

Being there was hard, but it wasn't the first time I've been back. I made myself go to the fourth floor, where you were. It was my second time back to that floor since you died, but this time was a little easier. I strolled your little brother around a little, people were probably wondering why a mama with a chubby little baby is on that floor. I just had to take a peek down memory lane. It's all still there, exactly as it was over a year ago. I'd go back in a heartbeat to be with you, but I don't miss the feeling of suspense. I don't miss the alarms, the smell of the medicines, the dark gloom that overshadows the NICU, that hallway... I don't miss any of those things one bit. But they were all a part of your memory and you've opened my eyes to a part of the world I would have otherwise known nothing about. My heart breaks in a completely different way now for NICU families and bereaved parents.

I asked Daddy last night what I prayed wrong. Did I pray the wrong thing when you were sick? The wrong words? What are the right words? I wish I knew. But deep down inside I know there weren't any right or wrong words. That's just another one of the devil's attacks on my mind to steal my peace. Not this time. Maybe it helped to verbally say what had been raging within me.

I am reading Angie Smith's book about her loss and it talks a lot about prayer too. I think God was trying to tell me something...

Anyway, you will be remembered. Missed everyday. Today I wondered what you would have named your children? I had a crazy thought that you might name your little girl Aurora... your mommy has a wild imagination... and then not even two minutes later down the road I see this truck with huge letters that spell "Aurora"... haha... I had to smile. It's like God's sense of humor or something. I miss you baby girl.