Baby, there'll be days when everything goes wrong and dropping your pen, makes you want to break down and cry. But there will also be days when people compliment you on your beauty and kindness and personality, days where the sun seems to be shining on you. Those are the days I live for, the ones I pray for. 

I know it hurts, to your very core. Hell, sometimes breathing is an act of pain and suffering. But such is life, life is suffering and nothing on this earth will change that. Life will always be known for its suffering and love will only make that easier to bare. Love isn't perfect and no one knows that better than you. This won't be the last time you think someone's going to turn out differently, only to find they were just like everyone else. I get it. You just want someone to be there and there's nothing wrong with that. I mean, you're an amazing person who offers her heart at every turn because its simply who you are. Nothing wrong with that. 

 I'd hate to be where you are right now. I won't lie. I try every single day to climb out of a hole that, in the end, I dug for myself. Empty? Its becomes you. Hurt? You're best friend. Lonely? Story of your life. I can't fix this. I can't make it go away. You took a chance and it turned out to be the wrong one. Now I dislike sounding cliche but shit happens. You're a strong person, one of the strongest I know, and its all that shit that got you here. Darling, you went through some scary moments and it took a lot of courage to get through it. You really were your own worst enemy. But baby, you came so far. You learned to walk away. You learned to love yourself, again. You learned to trust, even if only a little.

You know what's absolutely great about you? Your love. It's forgiving, never-ending, and its giving. You're perfect. I know that. Now you just need to realize it. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, but that doesn't mean that next time it won't work out. You still have your whole life ahead of you, so live it. 

Yeah, that empty feeling is bad. I know. Really, I do. But what if to get rid of that empty feeling, you had to lose every single good memory you had of every love you've ever had? Would you still want to do it? I don't think so. My best friend would do it all over again and cherish every moment that much harder because that's who I know her to be. She'd tell me to keep going, it'll get better. She'd say, "It has to. I mean, it can't be all bad right?" 

Well baby girl, it'll get better. Just keep going because life can't always be this bad or hurt this much. And even if it does, I'll be right there to catch you if you fall. Promise.

I love my daughter. The depth of my love, you just don't know. To my very core and past the time of my death; I'll always love her. Every once in awhile, I think back on my life. And no matter how I try to ignore it, my mind falls back on how different my life would be if she wasn't around. And then I spend hours guilt-ridden and sorry. How dare I?! A life without Bella? I feel like the worse mother alive.

You know, I spent a large amount of my pregnancy reading magazines, articles, and books. All of them about giving advice on babies, in the womb and out. In most, mothers talked about how they loved their unborn babies. But I didn't get it. How could you love someone you've never met?

I was frustrated. My whole life was changing and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The first thing that tipped me off to my life change, besides the huge belly, was the room change. It was a given that Bella's crib would go in my room along with her dresser/changing table. It would not fit in my room if I kept my desk, dresser, and/or (big) bed - something had to give. Well, I sat and cried (hormones?) because I didn't want to give my stuff up and it wasn't fair that everyone was pushing me to give up my things when it was my room. In the end, I bucked it up and gave up my desk to make room. I make little choices like that on a daily basis. Where I go, when I eat, when I sleep, the movies I see, even the people I hang out with. If I do anything, it should be baby acceptable. Sure, I could have someone baby-sit her but that can't happen all the time. I don't go to clubs or smoke and drink. I don't really have friends because unless they have kids, they're partying hard and that's a lifestyle I can no longer have.

I know you're thinking I'm a terrible mother right about now. But I can tell you the minute I realized I truly loved my daughter. I don't remember the day or the month. But I can tell you I had gone for blood tests and was suppose to get the results that day. A genetic counselor came to talk to my mother, my boyfriend, and I about the meaning of the results. Trisomy 18, ever heard of it? Neither have I. Not until that moment. "Trisomy 18? What's that mean?" The genetic counselor was blunt and to the point, "It means that the baby would have three copies of chromosome 18, instead of the normal two..." And on she went, explaining the disease. And then she said, "Because of the severity of the disease, most babies die within their first month. And only 10% make it to their first year." I almost fainted. Can you imagine being told your child might have a disease that could ultimately kill them. I didn't know what to do. What do you say really? There's no cure. No way to fix this. I would have to watch my child die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The pain I felt was amazing and one I could never try to describe because, truly, there are no words. The genetic counselor tried to explain there was only a small chance it would actually occur. But how can you get something like that out of your mind. I knew, with every fiber in my being, that I loved my daughter more than I loved myself. And I would stop at nothing to keep her here with me. Is that selfish? Absolutely.

Between my mom and Wanny, they kept me going. My mom gave me great advice and supported my decisions. And Wanny was one of the only people in my family that could really understand, she was the one that asked the questions no one else asked. "Is that why you don't talk to her in the womb? Are you scared?" And when I went to the hospital, ready to give labor, my mom cried with me. And Wanny called to pray and tell me she would fly to Pennsylvania if need be. I am grateful to have such strong women in my life. And I hope they know I appreciate it, all of it.

As I write this, I can't stop the flow of tears. Bella doesn't have the disease and for that, I am ever so grateful. But the pain and fear is still there, I can still remember like it only happened hours ago. I love my daughter and I am so happy that she's here. I'm happy that she's healthy enough to yell and play. I'm happy that she's healthy enough to throw tantrums and keep me awake at night. When I was pregnant, my cousin, Wanny sent me a letter. I still have it and I loved her for writing it. Wanny has a total of five kids but three were born with a disease and sadly, they didn't make it to their first year. In her letter, she told me to be thankful for Bella's every cry. God knows she was right.

There is no way I could ever imagine my life without my daughter. She frustrates me and she doesn't ever listen. But there is not one person on this earth that loves her more than me. And you can't tell me otherwise.