Thursday July 5, 2012

Darling Shelby and Dalton,

Yesterday was the 4th of July, yet another holiday I will now dread.  Yesterday was your 6 month birthday, and the day you would have been 10 weeks old, had you arrived on your original due date.  We haven't really been big July 4th people, I honestly don't think we've been to a commercial fireworks display in at least 7 years.  Your canine sister Abby hates fireworks and thunder, gets so terribly freaked out, I refuse to leave her alone if I know there is going to be a storm.  I kiddingly tell her what kind of hunting dog would she have been if she's scared of thunder, fireworks, gunshots and other loud noises?

Yesterday, your Daddy had an especially rough day.  I myself have been feeling particularly numb of late, but your Daddy has been overwhelmingly sad and depressed.  We were supposed to be getting ready to have our friends Mariko, Rafael and Leo visit from California.  They too were so excited to meet you.  On their 2011 Christmas card, it was addressed to Jamie, Allison, Abby, Ike and baby cousins.  That was you.  We hadn't found out your sex at that point, so they just called you baby cousins.  At the time, we thought everything was going to progress normally and were waiting to be surprised at your April (or even late March, looking back) arrival.  Anyway, instead of cleaning and getting the house ready, your Daddy started feeling sick.  He thinks it's a reaction from the local anesthesia he had on Tuesday during a dermatological procedure.  I thought perhaps it was a psychosomatic reaction to the loss and heartwrenching sadness he feels since you are not with us.  Either way, he was feverish and achy most of the day.

Your Grammy and Grampy were over for dinner.  We were supposed to have spent the afternoon in the pool, but the weather did not cooperate.  We had heavy rain and storms, it was unseasonably cool and cloudy for July in Arizona.  I was thinking perhaps the storms were y'all's way of saying hello, since it was so atypical.  So, we sat around and didn't do much.  We grilled sausages and had sausage and pepper sandwiches for dinner.  We watched the Rangers on TV, who lost to the stupid White Sox.  No left handed pitchers in that game.  We had just sat down to eat, your Daddy was in our bedroom.  He called out to me.  I got up and went in to him.  He hugged me to him, he was crying and burning up with fever, his body felt like he'd been basting in the typical 115 degree weather for hours as he was on fire.  He had called to me so that we could commemorate the exact times at which you made your entrance in to the world, 6:11 and 6:12PM according to the hospital, although your Daddy says he thought it was more like 6:15 for Shelby and 6:18 for Dalton, according to his watch.  I myself was quite out of it at that time, although I do remember hearing both of you cry.  I foolishly took those first cries as such a good sign, as all the doctors and nurses had warned us not to expect to hear you cry as you were too little.  When I heard that beautiful music, I thought "There they are, feisty and spirited, just like me, they're going to make it". Ha, I was so bitterly utterly and completely wrong.

Last week, I don't know what came over me, but I went on Neiman Marcus.com and selected several 6 month baby outfits for each of you, some jeans and polo shirts, onesies with animals and trucks for Dalton, jeans and adorable little dresses for Shelby, a Gucci onesie for each of you, with the words "Made in Italy" on it.  So appropriate for although you weren't conceived in Italy, you would have had so much Italian spirit and vitality.  I "virtually spent" an obscene amount of money on 6 imaginary outfits for each of you.

That's it for now my darlings, I must go and finish cleaning and getting ready for our houseguests.  All my love.  Momma