Yesterday was 4/25/15. I woke up at 7:42am to quiet. My baby was not crying like normal. I looked at the clock and realized it had been EIGHT hours since she had woken up. The longest she had ever slept was six hours. I had a moment of panic at first, thinking “Oh my God, what if Maya isn’t okay?” But I pushed that thought away and rolled over for a few more minutes of much needed sleep. But it only took me a second to decide not to sleep and wake up my husband. I shook his arm and said “Maya hasn’t gotten up in like eight hours!” and we both jumped out of bed and ran to her room. And that’s when we saw her. My beautiful little girl was laying on her stomach in her crib, dead. She was cold. She was hard. And she was gone. My baby. The one I carried for nine months inside of my womb. The one I bled for and hurt for and cried for and begged for. The one I was going to have all natural. The one that I didn’t get to meet for almost 12 hours after she was born because I had to have a semi-emergency c-section and couldn’t walk to the NICU where she was at. The one that I took care of everyday, whether she was cranky or sick or in a good mood. The one I got up with all night. The one I fed from my own body. The one I protected from everything I possibly could. The one I love with my entire heart and soul. She’s gone. And I don’t know what to do now. She was fine the day before. I spent all day with her while her daddy was at work. We played, we talked to daddy on the phone, we listened to music and danced, we nursed. And at bedtime, I did her normal routine, and when she started refusing to sleep, I got frustrated with her. I wished that she would just go to sleep already so that I could go eat and take care of myself finally. But she didn’t want to be put down. So I held her in her rocking chair for almost two hours straight. And I’m so incredibly grateful that I did. When her daddy got home, I breastfed her for the last time and he put her down in her crib, instantly asleep, and we went out to the kitchen and made dinner and watched some tv together. Maya got up once more and when she did, I decided to take a shower, but I wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t wake her, so I turned on the water, closed the bathroom door, and walked into her room to listen. It wasn’t so loud so I went back to the bathroom and it was locked. Somehow the lock got clicked and I didn’t know. So Austin had to hand me Maya and unlock it for me. That’s the last time I ever held her. When I handed her back to her daddy, she was smiling all big at me and I kissed her face all over and said “I love you” and went to go take a shower. A little later, she woke again and Austin put her to sleep by himself. And when we went to bed, we decided not to check on her since she would probably be up soon anyway and we needed some sleep. And she never woke up. I miss her so much that it hurts. She’s all I can even think about. How does someone so innocent and young get taken like this? It’s not fair. I keep thinking “Why did it have to be my baby?” and “What could I have done to make this not happen?” but those are questions that I will never have answers for. Because sometimes in life horrible things happen for no reason. I was an amazing mommy to Maya and I will never, ever forget her. I only got six months with her, but they were the best six months of my life.