Jillian passed away last evening. I don’t know what time it was. She suffered a massive brain hemorrhage, and the doctors told us that her quality of life would not be good, and she would never be able to live without assistance (if she even survived). We knew without question that it was time to let her go.
Jillian’s isolette was moved to a private room, and the nurses laid Jillian on my chest. The feeling of having her there was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Suddenly, everything that I’ve been through in my life, good and bad, made sense. It was all to get me to the point to hold my little girl. As terrified as I was, having her against me was the most perfect feeling in the world. I could feel her tiny heart beating against mine, and I finally felt complete.
We read her some books that we had bought while I was pregnant, and she was covered with blankets, including one that we received from some very dear friends just moments before we went down to begin saying goodbye. Dave and I changed places and he held her for a while. She was so perfect on Dave’s chest, but it’s an image that I’m not sure will ever stop breaking my heart. From the moment we found out she was a girl, I couldn’t imagine Dave and her together without crying tears of happiness. We had so much to look forward to, and I knew that she immediately had him wrapped around her finger. Nothing made me happier than the thought of him with his little girl. I hate the world for stealing that from us.
Dave’s mom and stepdad and my mom came for a few minutes to say goodbye. A photographer came to take pictures of Jillian with us, and then her breathing tube was removed.
As impossible as it was to say goodbye to our sweet little Jillian, I wouldn’t trade those last moments for anything in the world. We were able to see her sweet little face, hold her tiny hand, and tell her how much we love her. We told her that we were the luckiest people ever because we got to be her parents, and we promised her that we would do whatever we could to be happy again, just for her. I’ve never felt as peaceful as I did as she passed, and even though this was a nightmare so terrible I’d never even imagined it, the serenity I felt was unlike anything I could ever describe.
I don’t know where we go from here. I ache from head to toe, and there’s a hole in my heart that I don’t think will ever be repaired. It hurts to breathe, I can’t eat, and the thought of lasting until the next minute seems impossible. I wish I could say that I know we’ll eventually be okay, but I would just be saying empty words. We’ll have to try, though, we because that’s what we promised Jillian.
We love you, baby girl. Thank you for coming into our lives.