Mother's Day

Dear Sophia,

I'm not exactly sure what to say at this moment, but I really feel like I should say something. I've been thinking about you a lot the last couple of days. Today I had another appointment with my obstetrician, who is very ultrasound-happy by the way, and I got to see you. Although I know you won't survive due to the anencephaly, it's comforting to me to see how healthy you are otherwise. You are so strong. Your heart just keeps pumping along at a wonderful rate and all of your measurements are just right. In fact, you're measuring bigger than we expected, which is uncommon for a baby with your condition. You're doing so well and I am so proud of you. I think the doctor, Doctor Gjoni, is used to having mothers who are all excited and talkative during ultrasounds. I have always been quiet, just wanting to take you in. Today, he kept pointing out your hands - your perfect, tiny hands. It really comforts me to know you are so beautiful (although, in truth, there's no way I would think otherwise, no matter what you looked like.) I remember when we were at the hospital in Kansas City for the level II sonogram, the image which stood out to Daddy and I most was the image of one of your feet on the screen. We could see it so clearly, it was like we were looking at you outside of my womb. I really wish I had had the courage to ask for a copy of that image, but it is certainly a permanent fixture in my mind.

Mother's Day was this past Sunday. I had been doing fairly well during the whole meeting, but I lost it right after the prayer. The brother conducting the meeting asked all mothers, even expecting ones, to stand so they could receive a token of appreciation. I was in tears before I even stood up, and sobbing by the time I sat down. I have faith Sophia - faith that you are fulfilling the Lord's errand, that you are our special gift. You are our angel. In fact, whenever the word "angel" comes up, even if it has nothing to do with you, your daddy and I look at each other for support. We love you so much. I hope you know how special and unique you are. Today at my appointment, the doctor mentioned how, in the 35 years since he's been practicing as an obstetrician, you are only the second baby he has seen with anencephaly. I think that's kinda interesting as far as statistics go. He made a special effort before Grandma and I left to pat me on the shoulder and assure me that your brothers and/or sisters will be forthcoming and healthy. As far as that goes, I'm sure you know better than I do, but I hope he's right. I can't wait to tell them all about their amazing older sister who was so special all she needed was a body. I'll also be sure to tell them that you are watching out for them, as I'm sure you will be.

Last Saturday, Daddy, Grandma and I had the amazing opportunity to go do an endowment session at the newly-dedicated Kansas City temple. It was spectacular. At one point, I had the distinct impression that I could feel one of your siblings who is waiting to come down and join us. I'm sure you know them. I just hope they're as sweet as you are.

There is so much I could tell you Sophia. I hope I can find it in me to write to you more often, as you deserve. I love you more than I can express. Thank you for gracing us with your presence in this little family. Our reunion will be so sweet.

Sincerely,
Mommy.