Leo,

I know I promised to write you on 2/18/14, but I just couldn’t.  I haven’t been able to sit down and write to you since then.  Not for lack of want or words, but out of fear.  My beautiful boy, my eternal 26 day old son, not a moment goes by that I don’t think of you.  Sometimes I think of how much I miss you, other times it’s a fond memory of a beautiful moment, sometimes my thoughts drift to the unfairness of all of this, and other times, I think of the day you died and how it felt. 

I’m 11 weeks pregnant with my rainbow baby; the baby that we are gifted with after the storm of losing you.  I know that’s why I’m not writing down my thoughts anymore.  I know you’re aware that I still talk to you, I whisper “I love you, Leo” every night when I kiss your sisters goodnight, because I should be kissing you too. 

This Sunday is our birthday.  You would be turning one.  You would be toddling around the house, throwing your big boy food all over the walls and floor, growing teeth, mumbling and chattering, smiling and laughing, and throwing fits when you don’t get your way.  You would have been the little prince of the household and your sisters would have bent over backwards to make you smile…we all would have. 

I want you back.  I’ve changed, I’ve grown, you would be a part of an even better family now; a stronger family who knows how to love others, to give and ask for help, to lead by example.  Your death changed me, and I know that was part of your path.  But how do I get you back now? 

I’m pregnant with another child and, impossible/crazy/wrong as it may seem, I want it to be you.  I want your beautiful soul back on earth with me. 

I’ve been running away lately.  Running from my feelings.  I am afraid that, celebrating this new life (which is a huge risk for your dad and I because I don’t know how I’ll take it if I lose another child) would somehow minimize your life.  I don’t know how to manage the joy and the pain that I’m feeling as I begin to build up hopes and dreams again.  I know exactly how painful it is to have to give them up, which makes it really scary to dream again. 

But one truth I must face is that, not writing to you; running away, as I call it, isn’t helpful.  I know you want us to have this baby…I know you were there when this soul entered my womb.  It was quite an amazing and physically overwhelming experience.  I’m sorry i’ve been hiding.  I’m sorry I’ve been letting fear dictate my path.  I promise to try to follow love and allow myself to enjoy this journey with your new baby brother or sister.  I know my love for another child takes nothing away from who you were, who you are, who you would have been. 

It’s just hard to strike a balance sometimes and no matter how fast I run, the tears, the fears, the sadness, always finds me.  Today is a flood of sadness and tears over the ghost of who you would have been today.  I’m mourning the loss of my 11 almost 12 month old son, my birthday buddy, your Dad’s Buddy Bear, you sisters’ Prince Charming.   We miss you, Leo.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

Yours,

Mom