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I am so thankful for you, every single day. I may have only tasted motherhood but you completed me in a way I never knew was possible. I've spent my life waiting to be a mom and you gave that to me. I came to know you as I carried you around within me for 6 months and then for those beautiful, scary and wonderful 16 days got to experience you and nurture you and share you with my world. In that short amount of time I experienced the soaring heights of joy and the deepest depths of sorrow. I caught a tiny glimpse of what it is like for our Heavenly Father to love us so completely, because that is how I love you, with every fiber of my being. You showed me what it means to be brave and I'm trying to follow your example and keep being brave through this trial. It's hard, I'm not going to lie, but I know that whatever experiences were denied us (me, your dad and you) in this life will be given back, in a fullness I certainly don't deserve, in the next. I've grown up in a church that teaches families are an eternal unit that can never be separated. I've always believed that and knew it to be true but now I can feel it. I need it to be true because my heaven would never be complete without you there. So I'm clinging to that promise. To the covenants that your dad and I made in the temple the day we were married. To a belief in a loving, unchanging Heavenly Father and His Son who gave Himself so that promise could be fulfilled.
I don't know exactly how much you knew while you were here, living in that little clear box but I like to think you were about as close to heaven as someone could be without actually being translated right then and there. Those channels were completely open. I know you knew who your parents were. You knew our love. You knew why you were here and why you had to leave so soon. In those last few days when your eyes were open I think you were trying to show us or prepare us and reassure us. Why else would you have smiled? You knew what was coming. In those last, tender moments of your life, I knew it was time to let you go and get on with your real mission. I don't know what it is, hopefully someday I'll be privileged to find out, but it must be something really important, and for that I can willingly share you with heaven. I'm one of the lucky moms. I didn't lose you to yours or anyone else's bad choices or war or accident. You left us on your terms. Your dad has always been convinced that you had the choice and volunteered to come early to save my life. I'm starting to think the same thing. The reports have come back from the histology department and it turns out I was really sick and on the verge of getting worse. I think you knew that. Our Heavenly Father certainly did.
I look forward everyday to the time when I will get to hold you in my arms again and kiss your tiny round cheeks and hold your little hands. Oh how I miss those hands. I can't wait to see you bond with your dad in the way only a father and son can. I know he misses you. But I know what we are feeling now will be replaced with joy beyond measure that will last for eternity. We will try to wait as patiently as we can.
So thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I would have gladly given you mine but that wasn't an option. Thank you for making me a mother. Thank you for teaching me what unconditional love is. Thank you for being mine and letting me yours. Thank you for helping me realize how deeply I love and need your father. Thank you for showing me how right I was in choosing him to be the father of my children. And thank you for bringing me closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ than I ever would have gotten on my own.
With all the love I possess,
Your Momma
My Dearest Henry,
Today is your due date. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about that. I've been planning that it would be really hard so just in case it's not that bad I'll be pleasantly surprised. I'll be spending the day in Ireland with my sisters. I feel bad for leaving your dad home alone but he said he would be fine and I really need to be somewhere that is completely distracting, because as I tell people when they ask how I'm doing, "it only hurts when I think about it". You left us almost 3 months ago. It feels like years on one hand but on the other, like only yesterday. Time is such a strange thing. The 7 weeks I was on bed rest went like nothing but the 16 days we had you here felt like months.
Your dad and I have been bouncing back and forth through the different stages of grief and are not sure exactly where we're at. There seem to be a lot more good days than bad which is some serious progress. We are able to get out of the house (again, major progress) and have fun doing things that we used to do before you came, like dinner out and shows and travelling. Most things are still accompanied by a twinge of sadness that we can't enjoy them with you, so we try to enjoy them for you. I think it'll be that way for a long, long time.
It was almost easier at first (well not easier, but made more sense) to be really really sad that you were gone, because we were supposed to be sad and that's all that was expected of us. What we're dealing with now is more complicated because life moves on and we're supposed to as well. But as it said in an article I read about grief, we're not actually supposed to "move on", we could never move on, that would mean forgetting or ignoring you ever happened. We're supposed to get on with life. Figure out how to incorporate the giant elephant in the room into our everyday life. I think it's going to take months and months to get that figure out, and I think that's ok.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that it's ok to miss you, because I do, with my whole soul. And it's ok to wake up sad and have a crappy day on occasion. I'm trying to be gentle and forgiving with myself and not feel guilty if on those kinds of days I stay in bed til noon and eat junk food and lay around in my pj's on the couch until your dad gets home from work. The key is to make the most of the days when the sun is shining. I found myself one day last week being happy and distracted enough that I didn't even think about you until sometime after lunch and then when I did, it was with joy and sweetness, not with sadness and longing. That was a good day. I want more of those.
Today is your due date. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about that. I've been planning that it would be really hard so just in case it's not that bad I'll be pleasantly surprised. I'll be spending the day in Ireland with my sisters. I feel bad for leaving your dad home alone but he said he would be fine and I really need to be somewhere that is completely distracting, because as I tell people when they ask how I'm doing, "it only hurts when I think about it". You left us almost 3 months ago. It feels like years on one hand but on the other, like only yesterday. Time is such a strange thing. The 7 weeks I was on bed rest went like nothing but the 16 days we had you here felt like months.
Your dad and I have been bouncing back and forth through the different stages of grief and are not sure exactly where we're at. There seem to be a lot more good days than bad which is some serious progress. We are able to get out of the house (again, major progress) and have fun doing things that we used to do before you came, like dinner out and shows and travelling. Most things are still accompanied by a twinge of sadness that we can't enjoy them with you, so we try to enjoy them for you. I think it'll be that way for a long, long time.
It was almost easier at first (well not easier, but made more sense) to be really really sad that you were gone, because we were supposed to be sad and that's all that was expected of us. What we're dealing with now is more complicated because life moves on and we're supposed to as well. But as it said in an article I read about grief, we're not actually supposed to "move on", we could never move on, that would mean forgetting or ignoring you ever happened. We're supposed to get on with life. Figure out how to incorporate the giant elephant in the room into our everyday life. I think it's going to take months and months to get that figure out, and I think that's ok.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that it's ok to miss you, because I do, with my whole soul. And it's ok to wake up sad and have a crappy day on occasion. I'm trying to be gentle and forgiving with myself and not feel guilty if on those kinds of days I stay in bed til noon and eat junk food and lay around in my pj's on the couch until your dad gets home from work. The key is to make the most of the days when the sun is shining. I found myself one day last week being happy and distracted enough that I didn't even think about you until sometime after lunch and then when I did, it was with joy and sweetness, not with sadness and longing. That was a good day. I want more of those.
I am so thankful for you, every single day. I may have only tasted motherhood but you completed me in a way I never knew was possible. I've spent my life waiting to be a mom and you gave that to me. I came to know you as I carried you around within me for 6 months and then for those beautiful, scary and wonderful 16 days got to experience you and nurture you and share you with my world. In that short amount of time I experienced the soaring heights of joy and the deepest depths of sorrow. I caught a tiny glimpse of what it is like for our Heavenly Father to love us so completely, because that is how I love you, with every fiber of my being. You showed me what it means to be brave and I'm trying to follow your example and keep being brave through this trial. It's hard, I'm not going to lie, but I know that whatever experiences were denied us (me, your dad and you) in this life will be given back, in a fullness I certainly don't deserve, in the next. I've grown up in a church that teaches families are an eternal unit that can never be separated. I've always believed that and knew it to be true but now I can feel it. I need it to be true because my heaven would never be complete without you there. So I'm clinging to that promise. To the covenants that your dad and I made in the temple the day we were married. To a belief in a loving, unchanging Heavenly Father and His Son who gave Himself so that promise could be fulfilled.
I don't know exactly how much you knew while you were here, living in that little clear box but I like to think you were about as close to heaven as someone could be without actually being translated right then and there. Those channels were completely open. I know you knew who your parents were. You knew our love. You knew why you were here and why you had to leave so soon. In those last few days when your eyes were open I think you were trying to show us or prepare us and reassure us. Why else would you have smiled? You knew what was coming. In those last, tender moments of your life, I knew it was time to let you go and get on with your real mission. I don't know what it is, hopefully someday I'll be privileged to find out, but it must be something really important, and for that I can willingly share you with heaven. I'm one of the lucky moms. I didn't lose you to yours or anyone else's bad choices or war or accident. You left us on your terms. Your dad has always been convinced that you had the choice and volunteered to come early to save my life. I'm starting to think the same thing. The reports have come back from the histology department and it turns out I was really sick and on the verge of getting worse. I think you knew that. Our Heavenly Father certainly did.
I look forward everyday to the time when I will get to hold you in my arms again and kiss your tiny round cheeks and hold your little hands. Oh how I miss those hands. I can't wait to see you bond with your dad in the way only a father and son can. I know he misses you. But I know what we are feeling now will be replaced with joy beyond measure that will last for eternity. We will try to wait as patiently as we can.
So thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I would have gladly given you mine but that wasn't an option. Thank you for making me a mother. Thank you for teaching me what unconditional love is. Thank you for being mine and letting me yours. Thank you for helping me realize how deeply I love and need your father. Thank you for showing me how right I was in choosing him to be the father of my children. And thank you for bringing me closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ than I ever would have gotten on my own.
With all the love I possess,
Your Momma
