Love Letter

Capture Your Grief, Day 10


My love,

How can I possibly sum up in a letter everything I want to say to you?  How can I express a life time?  It’s impossible.  I wish our relationship was more than letters and thoughts.  Instead, I wish it were kisses, long looks, cuddles, and so much more.  Today, I will just share with you what is on my heart. I know you are always there, present and listening.

I miss you so much. I long to see what you would be like right now at almost seventeen months old. Would your hair have stayed dark?  Would you have brown eyes like your brothers, or blue and green like your sisters?  Would you be calm, or a bundle of energy?  Would you want me to hold you, or would you be a Daddy’s girl?  My ache for you is so deep. It never subsides. I will always long to parent you this side of heaven.

Losing you has changed me irrevocably, but I am so thankful to have been chosen to be your mother. When I reflect on the early days of my pregnancy for you, I think of how it truly was a miracle that my body supported your life.  I could have lost you so early on, but I didn’t. Rather, I had the honor and privilege of carrying you for 38 weeks. You brought me so much joy.

Honestly, if I was going to lose you anyway, I wouldn’t change a thing.  I would do it all over again just to experience the beauty of you growing inside of me and knowing you in such an intimate and rewarding way.

You are so loved, and you were so wanted.

I miss you every moment of every breath. You never leave my head or my heart.

I’m so thankful for the way your siblings love you, and the way they seem to know you, even though you never came home.  It’s so beautiful to witness their relationship with you.

Over the weekend I was thinking about our  time alone together while we were in the hospital. It was our only time. Around the 3 AM hour, about four hours after your delivery, the room was still and silent, and it was just you and me. Do you remember that moment?  I pulled you in close to me, my tears bathing your cold body, and I cried out in a lament every wish and word I had for you. It was the closest I’ve felt to you, yet.

I want you to know that I will always say your name. I will always let people know that I have six children. I will acknowledge that your little brother is here, because you aren’t. And I will ask, beg, and plead for prayers so that I can hold you again one day in heaven.

I miss you baby, girl. Your dark waves. Your red lips. Your sweet chin. Your tiny frame.

I just miss you so much, and I wish you were here.

Love Always,