Six months. Today, we celebrate six months of life. It’s your little brother’s half birthday. As I type this, he’s cuddled close to me, sucking on his pacifier, while his softie is nestled into his neck and lullabies lull him to sleep. It’s beautiful. But it stings. It’s bittersweet... I’m overcome with love for him and the joy he brings me to the point that I’m overwhelmed and brought to tears. His breaths fall heavily on my arm, while you remained so still. His little life, in my arms, because your life slipped through my hands. Death literally passed through me, so a new life could be planted. Could grow. Could resurrect from the darkness and bring to fruition a redemption I had not thought possible. There’s so much guilt. But there’s so much love. And grief, it still remains.Read More
I’m a day late, my love. Yesterday, it was 11 months. How have we happened upon one month shy of a full year?
I know I haven’t written in a while, but so much has been moving and churning within the depths of my heart. It’s almost been too much to articulate admidst the exhaustion of daily life, grief, and pregnancy after loss. However, I think you know. You’ve witnessed it all.
Eleven months ago, my world came crashing down when I received the most unimaginable news of my life...your heart had stopped beating just two weeks shy of your expected due date.Read More
That night, at mass, the message of surrender. Giving it all to God. Living with open hands. Wanting God more than anything. The story of Abraham, willing to sacrifice his son for love of God...I felt ashamed. Because in the midst of all of this, if I had a choice, if I could go back in time, if I could write this story’s ending...I wouldn’t choose loss. I wouldn’t choose your death. I wouldn’t choose sacrifice, or this cross, or this grief. I would choose to be your Mom this side of heaven. The words of our pastor carved into me, and I thought I might bleed out, but I didn’t want to release my emotions. I swallowed them down hard and pretended to be unbothered. I was convicted, but not convinced. I was divided.Read More
While I was in labor for you, I was told that your vocation is LOVE. My beloved, I also believe that your vocation is to stir others to love more deeply, more simply, more greatly, and without cost. To love without reserve or condition. To reach out to the broken-hearted and hurting. To love people where they are and just sit with them in their mess. Their brokenness. Their hurt. Your love is moving mountains. Your love is moving me. Your love is changing me. Your love is teaching me to receive love. To allow myself to be loved.Read More
As I end this year of 2017, which has undoubtedly been the hardest year of my life, let me remember that good also came from the pain I’ve endured. You did in fact live. Your life is the reason for my suffering. And I have had the honor of being your mother, and bringing you into this world physically, so you could rest forever eternally in heaven. And I wouldn’t change any of it, if it would mean that you never existed.Read More
I went to the chapel one night, in the throes of my grief. Visceral memories of her delivery and remembering how I let God into the pain that day entered into my mind and heart. I felt the pain again. All of it. Physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional.Read More
I would do it all again. If it all meant I could just carry you once more.Read More
I’m in a strange space, my love. Time is doing something to me, and I can’t quite figure it out.Read More