Dear Rossi,

We are so close to bringing your youngest sister into this world.

It is bittersweet knowing that now, we have officially spent longer with your siblings than we ever got to spend with you.

Franky's 30-week bump: a letter to my firstborn

But that will never change the fact that you truly gave me some of the best months out of my life. I never really believed in destiny before you, because if I did, I would have truly believed I was never meant to be a mom, and that is just horribly untrue. Yet, as soon as I found out that I would get to be your mommy, nothing before that revelation ever made as much sense as this new reality did. We were made for each other. Even if you did come at a very strange time in my life, there was no denying that it was absolutely the right one.

My sweet boy, you were the answer to all the prayers I had no idea I was singing somewhere down deep. You made my world so much bigger and my heart even stronger. It’s strange that sometimes even if my memories of our time together get fuzzier- my bond to you becomes even more robust.

Since you’ve been physically gone, I’ve changed in a lot of ways.

Some good, some bad. Though nothing quite beats the transformation I made when we were one. I was so daring back then, I felt absolutely invincible with you inside me. Ready or not, I fell in love. Not just with you, the person you allowed me to set free as well. These days, naturally, I protect my heart a lot more. I get irritable, and I get defensive, especially when it has anything to do with your little sisters. I’m not the same free-spirit you knew when your soul was here. Oddly enough, now I’m more docile and headstrong interchangeably… if that makes any sense at all.

I wonder every day if you were around what kind of parent I would be. Would I be as protective, would I be as sensitive as I am now? Or would I have allowed myself more flexibility, more forgiveness? I’ll never know, because I’ll never know what it is like to mother without the awfully humbling realization that our babies aren’t always ours to keep. We could do everything right, and still have it go horribly wrong. Yet, that would never stop me from trying to do everything right, still.

I miss the mother I was before we had to say goodbye.

It’s even more overwhelming when I think about how much I miss you on top of that.

I’ll never prescribe to the idea that you died for a reason, or that if it wasn’t for losing you, we wouldn’t have gone on to grow our little family. What I do believe, though, is that we were able to beat all odds with Madeline, and have the courage to have Joey, because you were with us every step of the way.

Madeline made us believe in miracles.

However, you, my son, made us believe in forever.

Please don’t tell your sisters this, but I have to admit my pregnancy with you has probably been my favourite. Shhh!

My boy, I’m not going to lie. We’re getting so close to meeting Joey, and I’m terrified. I wish every day that I could find some sort of way to repossess the fearlessness and confidence I had when I was pregnant with you, though even trying to imagine that feels futile.

A part of me takes comfort in the fact that I trust that you have protected these babies, similar to how I protect your memory every day. Like I will for as long as I’m living.

Whatever may come in these weeks to follow, you have taught me that love transcends whatever will come of life and death.

Nothing will compromise my ability to choose faith over fear, as having faith that you are happy wherever you are is the only thing that can has given me peace over losing you.

And that’s what I’ll hold onto as I wake up to another day with no guarantees–faith…always.

Sleep tight, little monkey.

Love, Mommy

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