I Know You

We had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of a friend's baby girl, who was due in just a few weeks. Tragically, and with no understanding of why, little Brenna's heart stopped beating last week. She was born an angel, 7 pounds, and beautiful.

What does a mother do when a baby who was almost here, who was already here in so many ways, who she already loved, slips away before she ever got to hold her in her arms? She cries and she tries to find sense in it, but there isn't sense in it. Her arms are simply unbearably heavy with the absence of her baby girl.

Those surrounding such a mother feel helpless to help in any way that will really matter.

This is for my friend, her sweet Brenna, her husband and their precious, precocious little boy.


I Know You
For Brenna

I know you.

You are the little girl I cradled next to my heart for months, and waited for for years.
You are the one I spoke to, shopped for, and held my breath for so I could better hear that strong little heart beat at every check up.

I know you.

You are the little girl I played Mommy to all those years ago, all those times I gently held my baby dolls in my arms and danced around my little bedroom.

I know you.

You are the little sister to a big brother who doesn't understand why you're not here after all.
You are the little girl that Daddy had already begun worrying about keeping away from boys who wouldn't possibly deserve you.
You are the little girl I was going to have tea parties with, whose hair I couldn't wait to curl, whose eyes I knew would dance.

I know you.

You are my sweet angel girl, who I ache to cradle once again. Who I held so briefly and never want to let go.

I know you.

Because I am your Mommy.

And I love you more than I can begin to say.

And I always will.

And, one day, I will see you again, and I will sweep you up in my arms, and I will know it's you.

And you will know me.

Because you are mine.