All day I have been thinking about Isabel's long long birth. For those of you that don't know, I was in labor for 41 hours. That is almost 2 whole days. Two very LONG days. Here we are, 3 years later, and I can still remember in exact detail some of the events that lead to her death and birth. I can remember everyone, EVERYONE telling me that there is no medal for doing it all natural (which, there totally is. Knowing your body is capable of such a big thing and carrying it out proves just how awesome your body actually is!). I can remember both times my water broke at the most terrible times! I carry with me that moment that the nurse left the room while I was pushing to tell my doctor Isabel had passed away and looking out the window and the snow, just starting to fall in that moment. I remember that moment that the doctor laid her on me and everyone in the room looked away while I was trying to rub her back alive. I remember thinking "This isn't the end. This isn't what I prayed for." Those memories come flooding back to me over and over again, sometimes with no warning.
I always, ALWAYS wish I could just have one conversation with Isabel. I think that would help with the healing process more than anything. I guess that is what it means to be perfected in the afterlife, to finally have all those conversations you need to be whole. I still talk to her on a daily basis. She is a part of me and I use her as my sounding board. But today I want to wish her a happy birthday tomorrow. If she were here, this is what I would say to her on her third birthday:
Isabel, you have no idea how much and how long we waited for you. Or how long we are still waiting on you to be with us. I tried everything I could to give you the best life you could have with your limited physical abilities. I hope you understand how much I wish it could have been different for you. And I hope that you able to enjoy what little we were able to give you in this life.
Addison misses you. But I know you are always there with her. She carries your picture around, as if she is enjoying the world with you. When we put up the butterflies in her room, she took your picture to show them to you. She carries you around in her beloved wagon often. And just today she had you pointing out the window looking at the neighbor kids with her. She knows you. She has even tried blaming you for the pee pees in her pants. I know that there will always be a piece of you with her, where ever she goes. I am so grateful she has such an awesome older sister. I know that you are always with her, even when I can not be.
I still have unanswered questions about your life. Why did you have to die before I could meet you? Why was your birth so hard? Why did you have to be sick at all? Could I have really done nothing more to have stopped this? I really don't know if answering any of these questions would make me feel better. I hope that it would, but I don't know. All I know is that I can't blame myself anymore. It is absolutely eating me up. I have to know that you would want more of me.
I hope that you are thinking of us on your birthday too. If you see some balloons with notes attached, those are probably from us. I am sure we might have to fight Addison to let them just go. She does love her balloons. I wish you could have been here to celebrate. I could have made your the world's ugliest cake, which your Dad would insist it "looks just fine." We could have had a party, something themed just the way you would like. Addison and you could have played all day and I would have read to you all the books you could ever want. That is my birthday wish to you. I hope that you are able to feel all the joy you deserve. I hope that you feel all the love that we have for you. Happy Birthday. I can't wait until I can see you again.