David,
It has been three months and 8 days since you flew away. Your basinette still sits empty of you, but full of all of your big sister's baby blankets that she wanted to wrap you in. How I wish I could hold you again. I don't know why you had to go, but know that I miss you so. I loved you from the moment I knew you were inside me. I will never stop loving you. You are irreplaceable. You are loved and missed, achingly so.

The moment I packed you in the little blue infant carrier and handed your earthly body over, never to see you again in this life, was the most painful and sorrowful thing I have ever experienced...I never knew life could be full of such unending pain. I am glad you will never know such pain. You must have asked Jesus to send me an angel to hold me up.

Love,
Mommy

"Those we love are with the Lord, and the Lord has promised to be with us. If they are with Him, and He is with us, they can't be far away."--Peter Marshall

through Rebecca's eyes

A childhood friend had a baby this week. A beautiful, healthy baby girl. I was showing Rebecca pictures of the baby, genuinely rejoicing over my friend's newest addition with joy from across the miles.

I asked, "Isn't she pretty?"

Rebecca quietly looked at the photos of the baby for a moment. Then her words came unexpectedly and stung: "Is she dead?"

It was like a punch to the gut. I was taking in all the perfectness that was this living, breathing, healthy baby girl. And because of our own family's loss(es), Rebecca saw the baby through the lens of her own experience. From her experience, babies don't live, at least the two that we have hoped to welcome and lost.

I answered her without thinking, not meaning to be cynical and sarcastic, but from that raw, painful place that I thought had recently softened.

"No, honey, that baby isn't dead. She's alive. Only our babies die..."

And then as soon as I said it, I knew that it wasn't true. I didn't lose Jonathan. I didn't "lose" Rebecca, whom God moved Heaven and earth to save. The handful of other mothers who have shared their stories of baby loss with me--their babies died, too, not just mine.

So I backpedaled, and fumbled through some softer, more honest response and then went and made dinner.

I'm looking forward to Easter this weekend, and the promise of new life, eternal life. It is real and its meaning is very personal this year. My son is alive and is whole, and one day, I will go to him. I wonder if he has touched the nail marks in Jesus' hands? I wonder if Jesus has told him that because of those nail marks, one day, we will hold him again? Is every day in Heaven an Easter celebration? Probably so.

We're planting a tree in honor of David in the next couple weeks--either a cherry or peach tree. And in the years ahead, beautiful but short-lived blossoms will emerge from David's tree, flourish for a time, and then vanish to bear fruit. I will always remember that the loss of the blossoms means that something better is coming.

So glad that spring is coming...