My littlest girl... I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
I'm sorry that something happened, I don't know what exactly, when you were growing inside of me and it didn't all come together for you. I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't get to keep you right next to me, as I longed to, after we first met.
I'm sorry I can't bring you to my breast, where you belong.
I'm sorry you have so many, too many, reasons to cry.
I'm sorry it hurts. I don't know what it is, but it bothers you so much. It bothers you for most of the day. Every day. I want to tear whatever it is right out of you and break it with my hands into little pieces and bury it so deeply into the ground so it can never touch you again.
I'm sorry you have to work so hard.
I'm sorry your hunger often goes unsatisfied - a common tragedy that pulls my heart apart.
I'm sorry you got sick on top of it all. And now you work hard to breathe.
I'm sorry we had to take you to a place where we hold you down while you cry, while you scream, while you rage as we prick you and restrain you and we hurt you as we try so hard to help you.
I'm sorry it is three months later and it is still so hard.
I'm sorry your first Christmas is happening in the hospital and we won't have cozy pictures under the tree of you and your sister panama-snuggled in a pile of presents.
I'm sorry about the shadow on the x-ray of your lung. And I'm sorry I don't know what it means yet. I'm sorry that you may have been drowning every time we've been trying to ease the milk down your hungry throat. I'm sorry it might mean more surgery.
I'm sorry that soon after you recover from this, you will then have your first surgery... and need to recover again.
I'm sorry I don't always know what to do for you.
I'm sorry that I told you, at the very least, I could just be there with you. And then I left the room. I left after your screaming became so deafening and three bodies were between yours and mine... when I didn't think you could hear me or see me or sense me through your distress. I left the room while they held you down, to fall to pieces and quickly gathered myself together again to come back to you... to stroke your sweaty, tear stained face.
I'm sorry you have screamed so much in the last three days that your sweet voice is torn to shreds.
Lucy, I'm sorry.
I will hold you as much as I can. I will feed you any way that I can. I will pump your milk for you. I will force myself to sleep so that I can wake up and be stronger for you. I will ask a million questions for you. I will make the very best, most informed decisions I can on your behalf. I will make next Christmas so special for you and your sister. I will love you through all of this as fiercely as I can.
I'm sorry I can't do more. I won't stop trying. I'm so, so sorry, love.