I never got to meet you, never even felt you moving inside your mom's belly. But I love you girls, and was looking forward to smelling your newborn heads when I first held you.
Your mom called me today to say that you wouldn't be joining us this way. Your little bodies weren't meant to make it. And now you're both gone. The doctors didn't start a proceedure that would hopefully help you grow big and strong. Your parents had no decisions to make, in the end the percentages and risks were meaningless. You took care of that for them, and just slipped off sometime between the last kick or elbow or stretch your mom felt last night and this morning's ultrasound. And for making the decision, I thank you.
For all of the joy you brought us - your heartbroken family of sister, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousin - before we could even counted your tiny toes, thank you. You will be mourned and missed. You will be remembered and loved.