Letter to Our Daughter

I wrote the following on a sunny morning to read at Maisie’s service:

You had your mama’s turned-up nose. I noticed that even before you were born on your 20-week ultrasound. You had your hand underneath your chin in that picture. So pensive, wise, thoughtful.

You also had your mama’s big feet. I remember your kicks, so powerful, deliberate and strong. I would poke you back when you kicked me, and your daddy would get so protective. He would tell me to stop poking you. He would nestle up to my belly and soothe you, by telling you stories of our day.

You also had your mama’s ear lobes and chubby cheeks. I was convinced that I would have a nine pound baby because I was well over one. But you got your daddy’s genes there as you were just a peanut at six pounds and 12 ounces. You also had your dad’s hair - soft blonde with hints of strawberry.

You were beautiful my sweet daughter. I was in awe, even amidst all of the pain, when I first saw you, when I first held you, I was in awe of you. And I still am.

You gave me inspiration and hope in the middle of a pandemic. You gave me joy when there was darkness in the world. And like the sun to the earth, you were the center of my universe. And you still are.

You were determined to be born on your due date - so punctual, like a natural born leader. You are a pisces, like your mama. As a friend shared with me, a pisces symbolizes the flow of water - and you my darling, were never meant to be contained. And while your spirit left your earthly body too soon, your spirit continues to shape and change whatever - and whomever - comes into your presence. Like a pebble being dropped in a great big ocean, your ripple is ever-reaching and never-ending.

My heart, and your dad’s heart, expanded so much when you were born, and subsequently broke into a thousand pieces when you were gone. This is the hardest thing a parent has to ever go through. And in the agony and despair, when I think that I am falling and can’t reach the ground, there is a glimmer of you my sweet daughter.

You are in the sunshine beaming down on my face in the mornings. You are in the gentle breeze in the afternoon. You are in the sound of the wind chimes. You are in the colorful daisies. You are in our laughter and joy and in our physical embrace. You are in the flickering flame of a candle and in our tears running down our cheeks.

You are in our Love - this boundless, forever kind of love.

You are in the wisdom and in the gentle nudges that point your father and me to what’s next. We carry on your legacy by painting rocks and placing them back into nature. We want to share you with the world. But perhaps it is you, Maisie, who wants to share your parents with the world - helping us heal and reclaim life.

I remember the first night after coming home from the hospital. I was breaking down in the bathroom with the deepest, darkest pain that I have ever felt. And I heard you. I heard you singing. You came to me, singing “Ooh child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh child, things’ll get brighter.” I realized in that moment, you my sweet daughter, were now the one who was parenting me.

We know that our hearts will forever be cracked. But perhaps it is the cracks in our hearts that are needed to let the light in. And my beautiful Maisie, your light will always shine through.

We love you.