Five days that changed the world. Day three. Cora, the first grandchild.
I knew this would happen. I started to write about your sweet five days on this Earth and then stopped. I wanted to write them down so I’d never forget, and to share everything I could with everyone else so you’d live in their memories as well. I started this series and only wrote about three days.
But, other posts came up. Mommy got distracted, and now, it’s almost five months since you were born and parts of those days slipped away forever. I hope they come back, and that I remember them in bits and pieces. But, the days aren’t as vivid.
It’s also difficult to wrap up your days. See, as mommy mentioned before, I always say you were here five days, but some might say you were here six days. You died early in the morning, but you were born late at night. You’re life was so precious and short, I wish I could have documented it by the second.
I looked back at the letter I wrote to you about your second day, and realized I didn’t tell you about leaving the hospital. It was a rainy, cold December night. I just remember driving home about 10 miles under the speedlimit. I sat in the backseat next to you. Like something straight out of a movie!
We got home and showed you around. And, I’m so upset, I don’t remember the specifics of that first night. I remember you started crying much, and we knew we’d entered life with a newborn.
We were pretty lucky, your Grandma lived next door. I haven’t told you much about her. She was in love with you. On the day you were born, she sat in the lobby all day. I only let her come back a few times for a few moments. But, she sat there all day. She was a good mom. She always told me she lived just to have babies. She loves me still. And, she loves you still much.
You were her first grandchild. I limited time with her because she would have spent every moment over here with you, and I knew we needed time just the two of us. But, I’d call and let her come over, and she’d sit and rock you. I’d come in the room and find her whispering to you, telling you stories about what the two of you were going to do later.
The night you died, the nice police officer that sat with us went and picked her up. She came to the hospital and held Daddy and I. When we got home, she tucked us in and peaked in on us every half hour.
I’m crying now Cora. I’m sorry the details of all your days are blurring together and becoming more difficult for me to write about. But, I know it’s important to share them.
You are loved by so many.