Dear Dragonfly…

January 12, 2018
Audrey Herron Photography

To my dear Dragonfly Drake,

It has been seven years since I had to do the unthinkable and let you go. To say goodbye when I was not ready, my heart was not ready and my soul was not ready. It did not matter that I knew with all my heart that saying goodbye was what was right for you. I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to keep you. This should never have happened to you. I wanted to cry until there were no more tears inside. I wanted to scream until I had no voice left. I wanted to take your place because you were so young, so small; you had the world in front of you, you were supposed to have a future. I had lived, you had not had a chance.

You became my dragonfly that night you took your last breath and flew away.

I was so excited expecting you, our first baby. Our baby boy. Our Dragonfly. You made things so easy for me during that pregnancy; no nausea, no heartburn. You were so gentle. I loved every movement I felt because it made me fall in love with you that much more, just waiting in anticipation for your arrival. I had no idea. No idea at all that at 38 weeks, things would take a turn that no one wants to see coming, no one expects. At 38 weeks we found out you were breech. That is the point that I feel I started to fail you, fail you as your mother.

I am sorry that I did not push harder to have our C-section sooner.

I am sorry that I did not stand up for you or myself when I felt we were being ignored.

I am sorry that I was not strong enough to hold off until our scheduled C-section.

I am sorry that I could not stop my contractions from pushing you out.

I am sorry that no matter how hard I tried to push I could not get your head out.

I am sorry that you were not breathing when you were finally delivered once we arrived at the emergency room.

Related: Plan for Pain

I am sorry that you had to be resuscitated.

I am sorry that I had to wait 15 hours before I could come see you/ touch you.

I am sorry that I never really knew what kind of pain you might have been in.

I am sorry that you had to go through test after test after test, all for the same results.
I am sorry that I did not hold you more.

I am sorry that I did not kiss you more.

I am sorry that I did not hold your hand more.

I am sorry that I had to leave you alone at night.

I am sorry that I never got to bring you home.

I am sorry that in the end we were told just how bad off you were.

I am sorry that we had to make that decision to say goodbye.

I am sorry that we had to pull you from life support.

I am sorry that I could not help you.

I am sorry that you had to go through all of that.

I am sorry that after 12 days and 16 hours, you took your last breath in my arms.

I am grateful that you were not alone when you took your last breath.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about you, miss you, love you, wish I could go back in time and change everything. Not only am I still grieving seven years later, I am still questioning everything that happened.

I fear forgetting you. I fear not doing enough in your memory. I fear others forgetting you. I fear the memories will fade. I fear I truly failed you – in the worst way possible. I was supposed to protect you.

I think about what you would be like. Would you be more like me? More like your daddy? A great combination of both of us? Would you love to read like me? Would you love to learn like daddy? What activities would you be into? I think about everything that should have taken place. Should have. If I had not failed you, failed this family.

Related: Remembering my Son

You were my first baby. You were supposed to teach us while we taught you.

I know I cannot change the past, I will always dwell on what could of, should of happened. I will always love you, miss you, think about you each and every day. Others may forget, but I never will because you took a piece of my heart with you and that piece can never be replaced.

I hope you know that I am sorry and I love you with all my heart my Dragonfly.

Love, Mama

  • Marisa Michaud

    Marisa is the mother to 3 boys, one gone too soon and 2 keeping her on her toes. Drake died in 2010 at 12 days, 16 hours old after being pulled from life support due to injuries he sustained during delivery. Her other 2 boys: Aden and Gavin, whom she loves every minute with them.

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