Dear Mom and Dad,
It feels like ages since we last connected, and I can only wonder what you might have heard in the time since. So much has happened! I married Jake a few summers back, and on November 11, 2013, I discovered I was pregnant for the first time. My immediate reaction? “Oh my gosh, it actually worked!” I reached for the phone to share the news with you, but hesitated. Did you ever find out? It was bittersweet knowing that you couldn’t celebrate this joy with me.
The first trimester was tough. I was quite ill, and while I knew you couldn’t fix it, having you there would have been comforting, Mom. I remember those nights when I needed someone to hold my hair back while I battled nausea. You weren’t there, and I missed you dearly.
When the time came to welcome little Ava, I endured nearly 24 hours of labor. I hesitated to go to the hospital, fearing I might be sent home. You would have known what to do, Mom. You had been through this before. Dad, you could have nudged Jake to act quicker—getting me to the hospital sooner might have eased my pain in a home filled with memories of you. But once again, I heard nothing from either of you.
Everything turned out alright; Ava arrived safely, and that moment was one of pure joy. However, just days later, I noticed her eyes were so similar to yours, Mom. I lost it. Did you know how devastated I was? Ava suffered from severe jaundice, and though we were discharged from the hospital a few days later, I longed for your presence. You never came to visit.
Watching Ava grow has been an indescribable experience. The joy of her first steps was overshadowed by the reality that she began recognizing family members who weren’t you. It breaks my heart that you’re missing out on this. You’re her grandparents!
I then became pregnant again—a bit earlier than planned, but we embraced the news. I worried about juggling two children under two, but I would have loved your advice. Maybe you could have offered your support while I adjusted to this new chapter of motherhood.
At my 20-week ultrasound, we had the technician write down the baby’s sex and seal it in an envelope. I wanted to open it with you both. Jake and I found out we were having a boy, in a beautiful garden area at the hospital. Did you see us? Jake shouted the news to the sky. Dad, you were about to have a grandson! I wished we could laugh together about passing down that baseball glove you gave me when I was a kid. Did you know I named my son after you?
The kids call you Nana and Papa. We look at your photos every day and say “Hi.” Ava believes you’re watching her from “up in the blue sky,” did you know that? Did you witness all the moments I yearned for you? I don’t want you to feel bad about it, but I do want to explain a few things.
Mom, when I first discovered I was pregnant, I called Aunt Sarah to share my excitement about how thrilled you and Dad would be. Aunt Lisa drove me to get the medication when I couldn’t keep anything down, and she apologized for not being you. Sarah came during my labor and held my hand before we headed to the hospital. My mother-in-law, Rachel, was there when Ava was born, assuring me that you were with us in spirit. And Jake—he was the angel you sent me. I know that.
None of these people can replace you, but they’ve helped ease some burdens. Some days feel manageable, while others are devastating without you. I talk about you often, and I think of you daily. But I wonder, did you know all this?
With love,
Emily