Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been a while since I reached out. I’m not sure what you’ve heard or seen since then, and honestly, I’m not sure where to start. A few summers ago, I married my partner, Alex. Then, on November 11, 2012, I got that first positive pregnancy test. “Oh wow, it worked,” was my immediate thought. I picked up the phone to share the news that you were going to be grandparents, but I hesitated and put it down almost instantly. Did you know that? It felt bittersweet, knowing I had to hold back some joy in that moment.
The first trimester was rough. I was really sick, and while you couldn’t make it disappear, Mom, it would have been comforting to have you there to drive me to the midwife and pick up my medicine. I could have used your help on one particularly awful night when I was leaning over the toilet, just like you did for me when I was little. But you weren’t there.
Labor with Emma lasted nearly 24 hours. I waited so long to go to the hospital because I was terrified they’d send me home. I didn’t know what to expect; I had never been through this before. But you had, Mom. And Dad, you were right there with her. You could have told Alex it was time to rush me to Boston to avoid all that pain in a place that had already seen too much. Not a word from you.
Everything went smoothly, in case you’re wondering. No complications, and delivering Emma was one of the happiest moments in my life. But then, a few days later, I noticed she had your eyes, Mom, and I just lost it—sobbing uncontrollably. Did you know that? Emma had pretty severe jaundice, and she had to go to the NICU. We got to go home a couple of days later, but I really could have used you, Mom and Dad. You never came to visit.
Watching Emma grow and hit milestones has been indescribable. You should have seen her take those first steps—she was so proud of herself. But it was tough when she started recognizing family members, and you weren’t around. You’re her grandparents! You’re my parents! It broke my heart.
Then I got pregnant again—sooner than we expected, but we were thrilled. I worried about managing two kids under two; I know there’s a gap between my siblings and me, but I would have loved to talk to you about it. Maybe you could have offered some help in those early days while I adjusted to being a mother of two.
We had the ultrasound tech write down the baby’s sex at my 20-week appointment and put it in an envelope. I wished to open it with both of you, but Alex and I went to one of the last places I visited with you, Mom. We discovered we were having a boy! We were in the garden on the top floor of the Yawkey Building. Did you know that? Did you hear Alex shout to the sky? Dad, you were getting a grandson! I wanted to share a laugh about passing down that baseball glove you gave me when I was 11. You could have played catch with Max just like you did with me. Did you know I named my son after you?
The kids call you Nana and Papa. We look at your picture every day and say “Hi.” Emma insists you’re “up in the blue sky” watching over her and Max. Did you know that? Did you see all those moments when I wished you were here? I don’t want you to feel guilt about it. I should mention a few things.
Mom, I called Aunt Lisa the moment I saw that first positive test. We shared how excited you both would be and how wonderful you were with kids. And Aunt Sarah drove me to pick up my prescription when I couldn’t keep anything down. She rubbed my head and said she wished it was you doing it. Lisa was there when I was in labor, holding my hand on the way to the hospital. Angela, my mother-in-law, was in the delivery room when Emma was born, and she assured me you were right there with us, Mom. Sarah even brought us coffee during our NICU stay with Emma. And Alex, he’s the angel you sent me, I know that.
None of them can replace you, but they make things a little more bearable. Some days I manage just fine, while others are overwhelmingly tough without you. I won’t let your memory fade, and my kids will know what incredible parents you were. I’ll tell them how much you adored them and how proud you would be. I won’t mention how painful it must have been for you to envision these moments while you were still here. Did you realize how challenging this would be for me without you? Were you heartbroken that illness robbed you of getting to know Alex and your grandchildren?
Sometimes, when I laugh, it sounds just like you, Mom, so my kids get to hear you. And Dad, I find myself breaking into silly songs and dances like you used to do, so my kids play with you. It was never going to be easy navigating this without my own parents, but I’m taking it one day at a time. I talk about you often and think of you every day. But I wonder, because I never hear from you, did you know all of this?
Love,
Brie