When you have a daughter in Heaven...

Dear Analin,

The day after you died, I was talking to a good friend. I told her that I didn't want this. I didn't want to be a parent who had lost a child.

At the time, I didn't know what specifically I was talking about. I didn't know what exactly I meant. I knew that this hurt was too deep to ever go away. But I didn't understand just how profoundly losing you was going to change me.

I didn't realize that I would, two and a half years later, still feel a pang of pain and jealousy when friends would announce pregnancies; that talk of baby girls would still cut deeply into my heart; that I would still look for baby clothes for you, because it could be a bad dream, right?

Your father is a happy person. I care deeply for other people and their happiness. So it hurts so much that I feel sadness when people tell me about their happiness. A year after we lost you, it got to the point where I had to seek professional help. One night, I broke down in front of your mommy. How could I react to happy baby announcements with such sadness, such anger?  People who did that were broken, I thought.

That night was a turning point for me. Things got better - as things tend to do. I no longer think that I'm broken. Being broken would mean that I could and needed to be fixed. And that's not the case. But I do need to admit to myself that I have changed.

I still hate it when people ask me how many children I have. A seemingly simple question, I stumble every time. If I answer 3, I feel guilty because I have 4. If I answer 4, I feel like I have to qualify the answer with 'but one died'. Why is it so much harder for me to share you with people than it is for me to share your brothers? I hate it and you don't deserve that.

It's not meant to be like this. When I said to my friend that I didn't want this, this is what I meant. Feeling conflicted, feeling guilty for feeling hurt.

But I take comfort from opposites. The pain I feel makes me love more fiercely. My guilt makes me work harder at being a better friend, husband and father.

And in the end, you have play to the cards you've been dealt.  It doesn't matter whether I wanted this or not. It happened and we deal with it. We take what lessons and what strength we can find. And we love more, laugh more, cry more and live more.

I love you so much and I miss you every day. At least there I know I'm not conflicted and that's a thought that brings me smiles.

Forever and ever,

Daddy.

The 'Would Have Dones'

Dear Analin,

Some of the hardest things about losing you are the 'would have dones'. Especially here at Christmas. 

For Christmas, we would have bought you presents. I would have bought you cute little pink Christmas outfits - most likely going over-board. I would have proudly shown you off at Christmas family parties, we would have left the Google Christmas party early so we could get home to you. We would have played with you in the water at Great Wolf Lodge, telling the other parents that you were two and half months old and doing great and yes, you were the youngest of 3 but you had two older brothers to look out for you and yes, that would just be amazing when you started school. We would have done family pictures with you in them, instead of your bear. Your Faster (aunt) Lise would have met you and Sebastian for the first time, instead of only Sebastian. Your Uncle Martin would have shared all the knowledge he has about raising girls - we would definitely have bought matching 'Dads Against Daughters Dating' t-shirts. My father's Christmas card would have included a paragraph about how big you were when you were born and how both you and Mommy were doing well. How I long for those words.

Instead, I missed you more intensely here at Christmas. I looked at every cute little Christmas outfit with sadness. I dreaded attending Christmas parties and didn't attend the Google party this year - simply because I couldn't face it. I looked on with a broken heart as the other parents played with their newborns in the water at Great Wolf Lodge, never once getting to share with them what a beautiful girl you are and how amazing your brothers have been since you were born. Your Faster Lise played with Sebastian in the toddler-pool and I just wished so much that she was looking after both you and him. My father's Christmas card had a paragraph about you and about how perfect you are - but it missed that line - that both you and Mommy were doing well. 

I envisioned so many moments as you grew inside your Mommy. So many hopes and dreams. Your Mommy wrote about the joy of finding out you were a girl. From that moment on, I started longing for that moment when you would call me 'Daddy'. I will long for that forever.

I miss you, Analin.


Daddy.

72 days.

Dear Analin,

It's been 72 days since we lost you. In some ways, it seems like it was yesterday. In other ways, it seems like it was in some other life - at times it even seems like it wasn't me that it happened to. But it did. We lost you and we miss you. Every day.

I cannot help but feel responsible for what happened to you. I'm your Daddy. I'm supposed to look after you. And I didn't. I know that it's not helpful to think that way. 'Silly Daddy' you'd say and beat me up with kisses. In my head, I know there was nothing anyone could have done to save you. But I have trouble convincing my heart of that. 

Maybe it's just that it's easier with someone to blame. Maybe it's some silly man-thing. I don't know. I know that I miss you and that life has been changed forever for our family. There were supposed to be 5 in our little family, here in our little house. Instead, as I've started to tell people, there's 4 of us here and 1 of us in Heaven. You, our beautiful baby-girl. 

You know, I've struggled a lot with this whole God-business for a long time. Since we lost you, I've struggled even harder. But as your Mommy pointed out to me last night, 'How can you be so angry with someone, if you don't believe in him?'. She's smart lady, your Mommy. She gave me a lot to think about. But I'm not sure when I'll be able to put words to my feelings on that topic.

It's almost Christmas time. Your Mommy has been wrapping presents for everyone. If you were here, we'd have gotten lots for you too. We would have gotten you cute 'Baby's First Christmas' outfits. Since your Uncle Martin is coming to see us this Christmas, we bought you an outfit that said 'I love my Uncle'. I also saw these beautiful dresses at the store, that I was going to buy for you - and keep it as a secret from your Mommy. But we don't get to. Instead we get to think about you all the time, send sky-lanterns up to you on Christmas Eve and remember you. Know that we will always remember you. You're our daughter, Analin. Nothing ever changes that. 

I just so wish that you could be here with us instead of in Heaven. Every day I wish that. 

It's been 72 days since we lost you. I miss you.

Love you forever,

Daddy.