Guilt and Kicking Daddy

Dear Sophia,

I love you.

I've been thinking a lot lately. Mother's Day came to mind. I still love that I was given a little purple box of chocolates with pink flowers. Since you wouldn't be around to choose your favorite color, I had already decided I would use purple to represent you. After all, it is a nice, feminine color and it was my very first favorite color. I hope it's okay if we share. I still have the wrapper to that box, too. It'll be included in the memory box I'm going to make for you. I'm glad we'll have something tangible to hold and remember once you're off doing your important work in Heaven.

I felt a little guilty the other day. While in Walmart with Daddy and Grandma, we ran into a couple I'd known while in the Singles' Ward. In fact, the husband had given me rides to church frequently before I'd left for school and he got married. But I couldn't look at either of them. I had a feeling he was trying to catch my attention, but I refused to look. Why? He was carrying their fairly new baby. I guess this is an area where I'm still weak, Sophia. For some reason, I'm okay with dealing with the babies in our ward. After all, I've been around them before and experienced them even before I knew anything was happening with you. However, with other babies, it isn't the same. Often, while we're out, Daddy will suddenly go "Aww." I don't really have to look to know what he's doing that about. More often than not, it's a very new baby in a car seat or being held by one of their family members. I usually just look up, smile and look away. I remember right after we found out about your diagnosis we were walking through Walmart to get something and Daddy said "I wish they would just take the baby section out." Of course they're not going to do that, but I can sympathize with him. Hopefully that section will become enjoyable again in the future.

In this case, Daddy didn't really say anything. I don't know if he even noticed their baby at first. But I sure did. And really, I couldn't face them or their little bundle of joy. Not yet. I still have some growing up to do, sweetie. Mommy isn't perfect like you are.

A couple days ago, Daddy and I were called in to meet with a member of the Bishopric to receive callings. When we sat down, the counselor asked how we were and if there was anything new going on. Hesitantly, I asked if he knew about the baby - which he said he did. I was relieved. He went on to say something I'd said and people had told us for a while, but it hit Daddy like it was brand new: there are only so many spirits who are special enough to only need a body before they return to be with our Father in Heaven. I'm glad Daddy is finally starting to really internalize how special and precious you are.

On that note, you MAY have kicked him in the face last night. After Daddy got home, I'd told him I wanted to see if he could feel you. He said he'd been thinking the same exact thing. Later, I laid down and he put the side of his head against where you are. We're not sure, but he thinks you kicked him. For now, I'm okay with a "maybe." I know it'll be something more definite in the near future. I'm glad that me having an anterior placenta dampening your movements hasn't kept me (and maybe Daddy) from feeling you move - feeling your strength.

We've had so many great people taking care of us, baby. One of them is Grandma - my own mother. You would be proud of her. She has really been a blessing my entire life, but especially now. I'm an "adult" but I'll always be her daughter and I'm grateful she is so willing to support Daddy and I in any way that she can. (I also appreciate opportunities to help her, as does Daddy - which is why he jumps to help her whenever he is able. It's really very sweet how protective he is of her.) You may be our little angel, but I know there are angels working around us as well.

Again, I love you. It's a little early and I'm planning on going to spend some time with a friend later on, so I'm gonna go back to sleep. Feel free to kick away, if you so desire.

Sincerely,
Mommy.