My Dear, Sweet Jesse,
It's Mommy. It breaks my heart that I can't hold you in my arms to tell you all of the things I want you to know. I believe that you are with me each and every day, and I know that you are okay. I see you in the crystal blue skies and feel you in a soft breeze. I hear you in the chirping of the birds and the laughter of other children. I believe that you are laughing and running through lush meadows and flying among the clouds and loving us from another, better place.
I hope you know that your Daddy and I loved you so, so much from the second we found out that you were growing inside my tummy. I spent so many hours imagining what you would be like. Would you have your Daddy's height? What color would your eyes be? I like to imagine they'd have sparkled like the sun on the ocean like your Nana Penny's eyes. What color hair would you have? It wouldn't have mattered, but I'd have liked to know. I hope you know that you have a big sister who was so very excited to meet you. Sami was going to teach you everything she knew, and she couldn't wait to start helping pick out toys for you. Did you hear her when she talked to you in my tummy, telling you "I love you baby!"? If you'd have been a girl, she wanted to name you Stellaluna Barbie. Isn't that silly? But she really wanted a brother most of all. (She'd have named you Jo-Jo.) And your Daddy wanted a little boy of his own in the worst way.
I hope you know that there were already so many people here who loved you, who had dreams for your life. Your Nana Penny and Papa Bill started buying diapers as soon as they heard that you were coming! You have a Nana Linda and Uncles Dan and Blaine who live far away, but they were waiting for you too. I really think that you have probably met your Grandpa Bob, my father, and many great and great-great grandparents and aunts and uncles, who I believe were waiting for you that night with their arms open, to hold and protect you when your Daddy and I couldn't. And I believe that one day we will be there, all of us together.
I hope you know that I could never regret one second of the 19 weeks and two days that you were growing inside of my womb. They were some of the most joyful times for us, imagining what it would be like after you were born, what kind of an amazing person you would become.
I hope you know, Jesse, how very very sorry I am that I wasn't able to bring you home to live here, with us. My body was not able to hold you and keep you safe long enough. My heart is empty and my mind full of questions that I'll never have answers to. Would you have been a sailor or a daredevil like your Daddy, wanting to jump out of planes? Would you have been a musician like my Dad or your Uncle Blaine? Maybe you'd have been a fisherman, too. Would you have been good with cars? Your Uncle Dan is, and your Papa Bill, and your Great-Grandpa, my Pop-o. Maybe you'd have been a teacher like me and so many others in our family. Or you could have been a scientist, a doctor, an artist, an athlete. The possibilities for you were endless, and we will never know. But a Mother can always continue to dream about what might have been. I promise that you'll never be forgotten, my precious Jesse Gabriel, my baby boy.
Love you forever,