26 Weeks: No Pain, No Gain

Dear Baby A,

I am two days late in telling you, Happy 26th week.  Things have been kind of hectic around here.  This week, Daddy went to Atlanta for robot school so he can learn to use the Da Vinci.  Aren't you proud?!  Mommy had dinner with your grandparent's on Monday, a late board meeting on Tuesday, a girls night out to see The Help on Wednesday, and a Delta Gamma advisors meeting last night.  Whew, I'm pooped just thinking about the week in review. 

I have been thinking about all of the things I want to share with you this week, but I think the most important one is a lesson I was reminded of this past weekend.  You see Saturday morning, Mommy woke up to the sounds of Annie, our 17 year old Jack Russel Terrior, crying.  Poor Annie didn't look so good, so Mommy sat quietly with Annie in her lap trying to calm her down.  In all honestly, I think somewhere deep inside, I knew there was something really wrong and innately knew that I needed to spend some really special and peaceful time with her.  Your grandparents came over because they could tell I was worried, and they went with me to take Annie to the doctor.  I was never more grateful to have them near me as I was that morning.  When we met with the doctor, it was clear that Annie had taken a sudden and severe turn for the worse.  And while I knew that the decision to help her go peacefully to rest was the right one, I have never had to make a harder choice in my life. 

Annie was a part of my life longer than most of the people currently in it.  I have known her since I was just fourteen.  She was a loveable and joyful and spunky little thing who, up until about three years ago, still had enough energy to go running with your Daddy.  She spent the last few of her healthy years happily in Beaufort where she enjoyed our walks through Habersham and her time lounging in the sunshine on the porch.  And I guess if I had to tell you how I will remember her most it will be with a silly grin.  I am not kidding, she was a dog who could smile.

To think of her sick and in pain, as she was on Saturday breaks, my heart.  To know that we had to help her find peace breaks it even further.  And it made me realize that there is nothing in this world I want more than to shelter you from pain and suffering and sorrow.  I don't want for you to spend one second of your life sad or heartbroken.  If only I could shelter you from all of the things that could hurt you...

But little one, there is one thing I have learned from sadness and tragedy.  It was a lesson I first learned following Hurricane Katrina when, after wishing that I had never even heard of a place called New Orleans so that my heart wouldn't hurt like it did, it was clear that pain comes from a place deep inside of you and fills the void where love once lived.  If you didn't feel pain, you wouldn't have ever felt love. For my heart to be as broken as our levees it could only mean that I had truly loved New Orleans.  For me to feel as empty as I did when Annie passed away showed just how big a space she occupied in my heart. 

And there is one thing I want more for you than to keep you safe and that is for you to love with every fiber in your being.  To not be afraid to share your heart with someone or someplace or something because you worry what life will be like without that person, place, or thing.  I can assure you that your life will always have been better having lost a love than having never loved at all.

We love you to pieces and cannot wait to take you to the Superdome tonight to see the Saints play in their first home pre-season game. 

Enjoy the rest of your 26th week, little one.

Love,

Mommy and Daddy