My Letter to Vala

I wrote this to my daughter (though I'm not sure she'll ever read it) as an exercise for therapy. 

Dear Vala,
I am so sorry your birth was so violent. I’m sorry that I took so many drugs during labor that affected you. I’m sorry that daddy didn’t get to catch you. I’m sorry that the first people that touched you were cold and unloving. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to touch you for so many hours after you were born. I’m sorry I didn’t get to hold you until you were three days old. I’m sorry no one held you until then. I’m sorry you had to feel the pain that you did. I’m sorry the nurses weren’t nice to you and I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to make it better. I’m sorry that instead of being comforted by me you were in a cold lonely isolette covered in tubes and wires.
I had so many hopes and dreams for your birth. I wanted you to enter the world peacefully and it turned out the farthest from peaceful than it possibly could.  I am so sorry that I didn’t do more to fight for you and I’m sorry that I agreed to the interventions that could be the cause of your violent birth. I will always be sorry that I couldn’t give you the birth you deserved. I will always feel guilty for that. I hope when you are old enough to understand you will forgive me. I love you more than life itself.