I met with a new therapist, and to finish our first sessions, she said that I didn’t receive much support after losing Yvette, causing me not to be able to speak much about her and that I should write her a letter. So here I am writing my daughter her first letter.

“Yvette, my beautiful daughter. I remember clearly the day I received the news that I was pregnant with you. It was my first ever pregnancy. We had been trying to get pregnant for six years, and we were finally blessed after completing our first IVF round.

Holding you in my belly was the greatest gift. I remember the butterfly feelings you gave me and the tiniest kicks that thumped in my belly. The amount of lemonade obsession you had. Girl, you were trying to make me diabetic! The cartwheels during the ultrasound, I thought you were dancing bachata.

Remember when Daddy would like a little too long to bring us food, and that would make us crazy, checking his location every 3 minutes because we were starving!

I’ve wanted to see your pictures and ultrasounds just so I can see you again, but I don’t know why I’m scared. I remember holding you in the hospital. You had my eyes, lips, Daddy’s hair, hands, and feet. Sometimes I think you were just going to be so fucking beautiful the world couldn’t handle it. Sometimes I look at myself in the same mirror I used to stare at when you were in my belly and fell in love with my bump.

You were so strong. Throughout the highly complicated pregnancy and bleeding, your heartbeat stayed strong, and I wish I could hear your heartbeat one last time. Why did I never record your heartbeat? Why didn’t I take more pictures of my belly and speak to you more? I regret the moments I tried to detach from you because the Doctor told me at 12 weeks that I was having a miscarriage. I hate her for making me think there was no point in connecting with you, and I’m so sorry. I swear I did everything I could to ensure you would stay alive.

I ate healthy foods, only had ice cream once, went on many walks until I was put on bed rest, drank a gallon of water a day, made sure I elevated my feet, took a virtual Mommy and me class, sang to you when I became more optimistic, took all my vitamins, meditated, chanted affirmations, Tigger and Pearl purred on my belly for you. What did I do wrong?

I hate that this happened. I hate that you’re not here. It’s not fair. We deserve to have you here with us. I hate that your Father has to go through any of this. We aren’t the same, and we will never be.

I’m so grateful for you, Yvette. You have provided me with so much purpose. You have taught me to be a Mother and love and advocate for myself. You made me stronger, and you made me understand that horrible circumstances can lead to a purpose.

Yvette, I miss you. You are my sunshine. There is nothing I wanted more in this world than to have you in my arms and by my side. Thank you for watching over me, sending me signs, and pushing me forward to continue honoring you in many ways. I hope you know my book club and Loss Mama event is for you. To celebrate you because everything I do now is for you.

Con mucho amor,
Jelissa”