My Letter to Kyleigh

One of my goals of this blog is to make the content constructive to Kyleigh. Right now, a lot of my thoughts are the opposite of that. That is why I have not posted anything in the past few days. I am frustrated, mad, overwhelmed and sad. I am tired of people asking me how I am and am tired of people telling me I look good. I’m not okay, even though this is my typical response. I don’t want to look good at almost 4 weeks post-op. I want to look exhausted from being up all night with a 4 week old baby. But I digress, as these comments are not constructive to the memory of my baby girl. I’m not here to complain. I’m here to honor Kyleigh. And that is what the following letter is all about … honoring my daughter.

This is the letter that I wrote to Kyleigh and had read by an amazing friend at Kyleigh’s Celebration of Life.

/*******************************************************/

My Dearest Kyleigh,

The word ‘alive’ has so many different meanings to me now.

You were alive inside of me from before I even knew you were there. In the early weeks and months of your life, you made me tired and caused me to drink lots of chocolate milk, but never gave me morning sickness. You showed us your heartbeat  at 9 weeks gestation.  You were alive.

You were alive as you grew, making my belly grow along with you. Your brother, Oliver, began to notice the changes in me and told me by belly was going to get so big that it would pop like a balloon. He told me this around the middle of my pregnancy … he had no idea just how big Mommy would get! I felt you move around 17 weeks gestation. You were alive.

You were alive when you heard the loving voices of your brothers. Almost every morning, Oliver would kiss my belly and say “good morning new baby.” Often times, I would feel movement, if even the slightest, after he had told you hello. He asked me several times to let him know when I felt you kick so he could feel it too. He was excited to meet you and couldn’t wait to be a big brother again. Garrison often lifted my shirt to talk to you through my “baby button,” as he calls it. He would say “how are you today, new baby?” “love you, new baby” or ask me “new baby coming yet?” as he peered inside my belly button. He loved to go into “new baby’s room” and play with the toys that were to be yours. I found him rocking in the rocking chair one day looking at a book and I knew that he was going to be just as good of a big brother to you as Oliver has been to him. You were alive.

You were alive on screen. As the pregnancy came closer and closer to the end, your Daddy and I had the unending joy of seeing you on a large flat screen T.V. through sonogram more than a half dozen times. We saw your ears, feet, arms, hands and belly. We saw all the hair on your head (yes, sonograms are so good these days that you can see hair!). I just knew when I saw all that hair that I was finally getting my dark, curly haired girl. We saw your beautiful face and your perfectly curved spine. We saw you breath, flip and kick. We saw you awake. We saw you sleeping. We saw you alive. You were alive.

You were alive inside of me for nine months. I kept you safe and warm. I felt your movements, I saw your heartbeat. Part of your heart is now keeping another baby alive. You are alive.

You are alive with Jesus. He caught you in his arms and took you home. You are alive in heaven and I can’t wait until the day that I can see your beautiful, dark, curly hair next to mine. You never took a breath outside of me, but nobody can say you didn’t live. You are alive, Kyleigh, you are alive!

I love you. Mommy

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2 thoughts on “My Letter to Kyleigh

  1. Tatum read this today and then looked at me with tears in her eyes…”it’s sad but beautiful at the same time”…yah, that’s exactly it.

  2. Pingback: Leann’s version of Did God Will Kyleigh’s Death? | Kyleigh's Gift

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