I'm sorry. I am so, so, so very sorry. From the moment I woke up today, I've been consumed by feelings of guilt. Guilt over not being a good enough Momma. Guilt over not saving you. Guilt over continuing to live in a world that doesn't include you. Guilt over being pregnant again, and already loving this little Bean.
I can't stop thinking about my two deepest regrets. Two things that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
First, the weekend before you passed away, Momma took your absolute favorite toy away from you. A toy I actually gave you for Christmas just weeks earlier. It was a hard, plastic Handy Manny toolbox. A button on the front played all the popular songs from the show, and caused all the tools in the box to dance. Pretty nifty. But, you were enamored with one of the tools, in particular - Philippe the Phillips head screwdriver. Bright yellow, with expressive eyes, he captured your heart and went everywhere with you. Unfortunately, you also wielded him as a weapon, regularly beating Zeke the Cat over the head with his sunny yellow head. After almost taking out an eye, I decided to put that toy up for a while for the safety of everyone in the household. You never got to play with your toolbox again...never got to hold Philippe before you died.
Second, the night of January 25. The last night I saw you alive. The last night I got to hold and hug you. I went to dinner that night with Aunt Dru, and you were already in bed when I got home. But, just before 10:00 pm I heard you fussing in your crib on the monitor. I went in, refilled your humidifier, picked you up, sang to you and danced, read your favorite book, and eventually put you back to bed. But the whole time I had this feeling...this thought. I came sooooo close to bringing you back to the bedroom with me. Just letting you sleep next to Momma. Just this once. But, no. Instead, I put you back in your crib since it was the safest place for you, right? Wrong. I slept peacefully with your monitor next to me all night, never suspecting a thing. The next time I saw you was at 6:00 am the next morning, lifeless in Dadda's arms. How could I not have known? Not felt it in my bones? Not heard a thing?
Peanut, a better Momma would have let you play with your favorite toy. A better Momma would have taken you to bed with her. A better Momma would have saved you. A better Momma would still have her Peanut.
I wish I had been a better Momma. You deserved it.
Loving you so very much it hurts. To the moon and back, sweet Angel.