Precious child of mine. I don’t think of you nearly enough. I only knew about you for three days and then in a blur of pain, surgery and blood, you were gone.
I barely had time to celebrate your coming before I was mourning your unavoidable departure. You were, quite literally, “here today, gone tomorrow.”
You were maybe all of eight weeks old but you were growing in the wrong place inside of me. You were in my fallopian tube, not my uterus, what they call an ectopic pregnancy. You were in the wrong place but you couldn’t have known. I didn’t know either except, brief as you were a part of me, it never felt right, even for the short time I celebrated your existence.
I don’t know why I don’t think about you more. Maybe it’s just too painful, maybe I know there’s no point. Like David said after his son died,
“I shall go to him but he shall not return to me…” 2 Samuel 12:23.
Although I’m pretty sure you’re a ‘she’ and not a ‘he’. Don’t ask me how I know, I just know.
And as sure as I know anything, I know you’re alive right now. There’s just a thin veil that separates us, a veil that will evaporate one day. I know you’re waiting for me and your dad and I’m certain and sure you’ve met your other family members that have already made it to heaven.
You don’t know your big sister though, so I want to take a minute and tell you about her.
She was only 28 months old when you burst into and out of our lives that Labor Day weekend back in 1987. Monday September 7, that was the day you left us.
Your sister’s name is Francesca and she is an amazing daughter and a fabulous wife and mother of four adorable kiddos. You have three nephews, Eli, Isaac and Wyatt and one niece, Audrey. I’m certain they would have loved you and I know they will one day when they meet you in heaven. You should know, they love family dance parties so, get your dancing shoes ready!
Anyway, your sister, we call her Franny, she is beautiful and has long brown hair and big blue eyes. I bet you anything the two of you would have been inseparable BFF’s.
Franny loves to sing (she takes after me in that), she’s a great cook, she writes songs and can play guitar and she has a great sense of humor, just like your dad. She’s super smart and she loves Jesus with all her heart. I know she would’ve loved you too and you would have had the best big sister you could have asked for.
Maybe you’re on my heart because Mother’s Day is right around the corner and I’ve always wondered what life might have looked like if you’d lived. I have no idea how your life would have turned out but know your dad and I would’ve loved you dearly and protected you with everything in us. We would both have helped you find your purpose and live it out and applauded you from the sidelines.
I miss you sweet child. Dad does too. Oh, how you would have loved him! He’s hilarious, the smartest man I’ve ever met, he works incredibly hard and he doesn’t know a stranger. In fact, I call him ‘the mayor of everywhere’. He lays down his life for his family in ways no one ever sees and I just know he would have fought for you and you would’ve been his little princess.
I love you and I miss you. I’m so very sorry I never got to hold you in my arms or gaze into your eyes or stroke your hair or kiss your cheeks. We never got to play patty-cake or go to the park or read books together at night before bed. I miss all those things and so many more but I know this, no matter what comes in life, joy or sorrow, gain or loss, God is good, always.
I don’t know why He didn’t let me hold you or see you or raise you. I have a million questions that will only be answered on the day I see Him face to face. I don’t know why I never thought to give you a name. But I know you have one, Jesus named you and knew you before the foundation of the world and I look forward to finding out what name He chose for you. I know it will suit you perfectly.
Please know my precious child, I will never, ever forget you and I look forward to the day we are finally face to face! I will hug and kiss you and be with you forever and make up for all the time we missed. I can’t wait for the day you call me ‘mom’ for the first time and I so look forward to when you get to meet the rest of your family, your sister and neice and nephews, brother-in-law, cousins, aunts and uncles. I loved you briefly then…
…and I love you still.
For those of you who find Mother’s Day excruciating because of loss, please know that God knows exactly what you’re going through. He knows your pain and He feels your loss and He cares deeply about the child you never held. The bible tells us in Romans 11:33, “O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” I wrote a post all about my struggle with infertility here. It might help.
We can’t begin to know all His ways but I trust that for reasons only He knows, God allowed in His wisdom what He could have prevented with His power. His ways are unsearchable and some things we just won’t know until we see Him. But know this, time gives perspective. The heartache does lessen, the tears that flow so easily now will one day slow to a trickle. Eventually, you’ll be able to celebrate a friend’s pregnancy and go to baby showers again. But until then, take your sorrow to Jesus, “…a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief…” (Isaiah 53:3) and let Him give you the peace only the Prince of Peace can give.