Today I questioned if Sylvia is upset at me. It happened laying in our San Diego hotel bed just hours ago. I have hundreds of haunting, unmentionable, shameful thoughts that run through my head daily regarding her death and my life moving forward. But this one started by thinking about how Sylvia will have siblings in the future and that though they won’t meet her, their existence will only be because of her. I started to panic about how she would feel about this. Would she think we are trying to move on? Replace her? Are her feelings hurt that we are even talking about future pregnancies and babies? Children who are alive usually experience some form of jealousy when a sibling is born. There is an adjustment, always, that occurs with the introduction of some new life brought into their seemingly perfect little world. In my head, this adjustment will still happen with Sylvia and her future siblings. The idea of her innocent, pure soul having distress about a brother or sister, her thinking that Carlos and my attention is being taken away from her life, her death, and the grief and celebration with both is almost too much for me to bear.  I asked her for forgiveness for wanting to be pregnant again so badly. I told her that the pain of her not being here is almost more than I can bear. I told her that I would give anything, my legs, my arms, my voice, anything, to have her here or even to kiss her, hold her, see her again. I told her that while I know she made us parents, we want her to have siblings and we want to tell them all about her. We want to bring a baby home and have them grow up in the room that is, and will always be , hers. I asked her permission to share the crib, changing table, rocker, decorations, car seat, stroller, sheets and closet full of clothing and toys that her daddy,myself and all the people that loved her collected and gifted for her with her little brother or sister. I asked her to help me be strong enough to be pregnant again. I asked her for help being a mommy to another baby someday. I asked her to teach me how to love a baby that isn’t her. I asked her for strength and bravery to be able to go to an appointment and listen for a heartbeat again. And then, I thanked her. I thanked her for her life. I thanked her for being ours. I thanked her for making me a mommy. I thanked her for making Carlos a daddy. I thanked her for meeting her grandparents, her aunts and uncles. I thanked her for teaching me more lessons that I ever thought I needed to learn. I thanked her for her bravery, her strength and her purity. I thanked her for her siblings and our future. And I thanked her for her love.

Thank you my beautiful, sweet little dove, for all the yesterdays, for today, and for a million tomorrows. You are our first. You are our love, our light, our pride, our joy and our happiness. You are everything and more, you are beyond us, bigger than us. More perfect, more pure, more beautiful than anything we could have imagined. We love you so, so much.