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Saturday will be one of the saddest and most difficult anniversaries of my life. I lost my oldest daughter to suicide 4 years ago on June 14 and a part of me died with her. I wanted to write something for her and about her this morning as an expression of my love for her. Many things I am going to say may seem bizarre to some and reasonable to others, but I need to express myself. The pain in my heart has to find expression today and this is the mode I am choosing.

When I first saw Megan she was so tiny, only a 6 pound 7 ounce baby, she was a peanut. The plan was for me to give her up for adoption as I was a very young and immature 18 year old girl with many problems. I asked that I be allowed to see her through the glass, when they lifted her up for me to see, my heart melted. Her little ear was bent down from the birth and she was so precious that I had to hold her. Having never held a baby before ever, I was shaking like a leaf. The instant that nurse placed her in my arms I knew that I couldn't go through with the adoption. For years that decision haunted me.

I took care of her for the first 2 years of her life and loved her so much. She was a difficult baby as she was nervous, and as she grew older became very headstrong. I was living with my mother and her husband and that was very hard for me. I had a full time job I was holding down and attended church regularly with my mom. Though I loved my baby I was so unhappy. I was young, immature, and full of my own demons that needed to be worked out of my life. I made a terrible decision and left her with my mom to go and make a new life for us. I ended up lost in the world of addiction and alcoholism and lost custody of this little girl and it nearly broke my heart. Instead of getting myself together and fighting to regain custody, I allowed the pain of loosing her to drive me further into the darkness of addiction and all the ugly places it took me.

In an effort to protect her from me, the family did not allow me to have any contact with her at all. Again, instead of getting myself together and suing for visitation I remained silent and soothed the pain with drugs and alcohol. Finding my way to sanity, and out of the hellish life I had been living, I began to have my own family. Missing Megan was a lifestyle for me. I so wanted her to know her siblings and to regain that relationship we had. Megan didn't even know I was her mother, only some name that was spoken quietly around her and someone that was not a

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