Hi sweetie,

Today wasn’t the best day as far as missing you goes. I was good this morning, sang some Taylor Swift while I made breakfast, nothing crazy. After breakfast, Lucas took my phone and was watching your honor walk again. I don’t like to watch it. The pain that comes into my body when I see you lying there is indescribable. I tried to get it out of my mind. I read the boys some books, went to the commissary because it’s “sour drink day”, and came back to make lunch. After I was done with lunch, I sat down on the couch. All of a sudden I had this nagging feeling about your autopsy results. My day just went downhill after that. There were no results yet, but the boys’ genetic tests were received by the company. I was just upset and crying the rest of the day.

I cannot describe the pain and longing of missing you. It is so huge and hurts so much, but can’t be put into words. I want nothing more than to just hug you right now. I would hold on and never let go. You were getting so tall and it was only a matter of time until we were eye to eye. I can remember how it feels to hug you. I even just wish I could go back into the hospital and lay down with you. I want to run my fingers through your hair. I want to feel like you are actually here with me. How can someone so young and full of life just leave this world without me? I miss you a lot, but today it’s just your presence is so far gone from my life.

I’m thankful for my Facebook memories now. The pictures that came up today were when you were just a babe with big cheeks. You swept the kitchen floor for me in Tennessee. You have that amber teething necklace on that I made all three of you boys wear. I didn’t know about it for Ellie. Honestly, I don’t think it helped at all. However, in desperate need of sleep I used it in the off chance that it did actually help. I did a lot of things to try and get you guys to sleep. I turned the vacuum on and just sat it near you, drove around in the car, bounced on a yoga ball, essential oils, white noise, Merlin magic sleep suit, swaddle, super swaddle, zipadee zip, slightly inclined mattress, a fan, blackout curtains, you name it we did it. Still, nobody really slept. You and your brothers were and are still waking up ridiculously early.

I spent the rest of my early evening and night in bed. I don’t want to have to think or do anything. I just want to sit here and miss you. I was a decent mom earlier and read books, played Mario Kart (and talked crap) with the boys, made meals, walked the dogs with everyone, and went to the thrift shop, but it’s like I can’t get out of bed now. There’s things that I want to get done, but I’m useless right now. I want you to come home. Are you tired of me telling you that? I just wish I could wake up from this nightmare and go back to my planned life. My planned life that was made up of my four crazy and chaotic kids. I wanted four kids. Each one of you was planned. We are now incomplete. There is a huge hole in me that’s never going to go away. It’s never going to get better. It’s never going to stop missing you. I honestly don’t think I’m ever even going to get past the “what if” stage.

Ellie goes to the neurologist tomorrow. We are still working on getting her genetic test done, but we will go tomorrow to analyze the abnormal EEG and see what’s next. As of now, Ellie doesn’t know a thing. We didn’t remind her about the random seizure she had last year and we haven’t told her the EEG was abnormal. Will this change tomorrow? Ever since you passed she is just terrified that her or someone in the family is just going to suddenly pass away. She thinks that if she has the same thing you had, that’s it for her. I’ve tried to explain that we still don’t even have answers for you and that if something does come up, we can figure out how to treat it. You weren’t getting any treatment because all the doctors said you were great. I’m going to have to send a message to the doctor before we get in the room so they watch their words if needed. You would think they would anyway since it’s a child, but I learned from one of your doctors in the hospital that it’s not always the case.

I love you my baby. It’s 7:32pm and I think I’m just going to go to bed. I want the pain and hurt to go away and my only slight escape from that is sleeping, unless I have a recurring nightmare involving losing you. Please watch over us. Please visit. I know you obviously can’t, but please come back. I just figured I would ask. I love and miss you more than anything. Goodnight and sweet dreams, sweetie.