I was told right after you died, to write my memories down. The small ones, the ones I cherished because they happened with you. The ones I thought surely I'd never forget. I am so glad I did.
There are times like today when you feel not just dead, but far far away. So far away that your life is like a dream. But then I see that picture in the kitchen and I know you happened. I am so sorry. I hate that my mind does this. I can't even pinpoint what drags me into this abyss where you just seem so far from me. Maybe it has to do with time, and how six months will be here too soon.
Regardless, I want to share a memory or two that I have written down. It's been awhile since I let myself crack these open. They hurt, Jenna. They hurt. But I want to be close to you again.
Right after you died, no sooner would my eyes start to well up with tears that I would hear your soft sweet spirit assuring me "I'm okay, Mommy."
But now that's gone. I know you're okay, but I miss that feeling of how I just knew you were right there next to me as Mommy was balling her eyes out in the car at the red light.
I remember...
Being afraid the first time I laid eyes on you in the NICU. I asked the nurse if it was okay to touch you and she let me. I was so afraid of hurting you. She did tell me not to caress you since your nervous system had not fully developed and caressing would more than likely agitate you. I could not believe how small you were! But also pretty long for such a small baby. It was so surreal to behold the very creature that only hours prior had been kicking me furiously with that stupid monitor strapping you down! Fearfully and wonderfully made - what a truth! Your feet were long and your fingers were long too, just like mine. I told everybody that they would not go to waste and would definitely be learning the piano. =) I could not wait. I remember observing you for hours on end and studying your fingernails and toenails. How perfect you were.
You never let in on how much pain you were really in. I still can't move past that point of how much pain I am no doubt responsible for. But I was trying to give you every chance to live. The doctors never let us believe that it was hopeless until the end. We had to believe in those small chances, every last one of them - if it meant fighting to keep you with us. Thank you for being such a fighter, Jenna.
