Nicole Brooke

Our Family Picture:  January, 2014

 Dear Nicole,

You came too soon and so you couldn't stay and we miss you so much.  At 23 weeks and 1 day, you just were too tiny and your body had endured so much--the infection would have made it so hard for you to fight against all the odds you had against you.  Because of those odds,  your daddy and I decided to let you go and be with Jesus--we didn't want to watch you struggle down here.  Very likely, you would have had to struggle your whole life with the effects of being born too soon.  We couldn't stand the thought of watching that and so we let you go.                                                                                                                                But don't think for a minute, Nicole, that that was

easy for us to do--we held you in our arms and we loved you with a love stronger than we thought ourselves capable of.  You had been a part of us--we had hopes and dreams for you.  We knew you were going to be a girl for a little less than 3 weeks and visions of tea parties, pink-frilly dresses, and fun in the kitchen together danced in your mama's brain. Daddy thought of the games you could play on the floor together, the puppy he wanted to buy you and the picnics we could take as a family.  And we smiled and hoped and longed for the day in May when we would meet you.

 Yes, Mama worried about how it was all going to work out--how you were going to come and she was going to get packed up to move and unpack and settle into a new house in the space  of a month or less, but she was ready to tackle it.  Dear Nikki,  your mama would love to be able to tackle it now and to worry about how it would all work out.  Now she just thinks about the long, lonely summer and wonders how she will survive without her dear little girl.

See how tiny her hands were, but so perfectly formed. 

Then, on January 6, we got the news that there was some concern you could be a special needs child. We cried about it and researched it online and then we did what all parents do--we wrapped our minds as best we could around the idea and declared that no little girl would be loved more. We talked about it all week--about the change it would be and the struggle it could be, but we never changed in our resolve--we were going to love you for all you were worth and were going to do everything to give you the best chance at life you could have.  And we knew if it was a false alarm, we would be so much more grateful for our healthy little girl.

 Then January 12 came and our world rocked on its axis once more as we realized, Nicole, that you weren't likely to stay in your warm, little nest for the time that you were supposed to.  Your snug little home that was meant to keep you safe and secure had turned into your death sentence and the bugs inside destroyed your little buffer against the cruel world outside.  I wonder what it felt like when you lost your protective sac of fluid--did you get claustrophobic?  You couldn't move much after that-it had to be squished and confining.  Nikki, your mom was gonna do what she could to protect you, but she had a feeling there would be no protecting you long enough.  Ten weeks looked like a long time, but I was willing to do it for you, Nicole.  I loved you so much, but alas that was not to be.  The very next day, you came to us--just a tiny little 1 lb 7 oz  bundle, only 11.5 inches long, but just perfect in every way.  You never breathed the air of the world outside.  The first breath you took was of eternity and the joys of heaven.  Nicole, we don't wish you back--the cold, frozen grave is not your true home--it's only your body there.  We rejoice for you in the splendors of heaven-we can't wait to see you again.  But Nikki love, we miss you so much.  It's been 2 weeks and 1 day since we first laid eyes on you--since we knew there would never be a Nicole Brooke to rock in our arms and bounce on our knees and kiss ouchies for.  We don't cry for you, we cry for us and all we are missing.  We know you didn't live in vain--you made our lives fuller even while leaving our arms empty and aching.  It's hard to go on--we cry and then we laugh and then we feel guilty for enjoying life and yet we know we need to go on living.  But we will never forget you Nicole--you are part of our family forever.

We love you, Nicole Brooke, and we hope we can make you proud of us.  We want to live our lives fuller and more love-filled and God-filled because you were in our hearts and in our arms for such a short while.

You are forever in our hearts:

With all my love,

Your Mother.