He is so perfect. Literally perfect. So innocent and pure of all of this world’s mighty sufferings. I will never see his first birthday, but he will never see hate. I will never see him play with his brother, hear his cry or his laugh, or see his sweet smile – but he will never know pain, tears, or a broken heart.
My mama’s heart is so thankful that what I am experiencing at this moment, he will never have to go through. Ever. He had the most peaceful face that took the air out of my chest. The love we have for this sleeping boy could fill the entire ocean and cause a flood.
I am angry, confused, broken, hurt, jealous, and I carry all of the postpartum baggage that every woman sets aside once she sees that sweet, squirmy face staring back at her. It is the biggest nightmare I have ever had to let go of and one I thought I wouldn’t have to walk through again. But, we are confident answers are being found.
How do you piece yourself back together after this? I don’t know. But, I’m trusting the Lord does. I don’t understand our mighty God sometimes, like right now, but I know He still reigns.
I felt He, the ruler of the universe, couldn’t even understand. I told him He was making me suffer beyond what I deserved. And then I remembered he lost His son, His only son, for the sake of something many couldn’t understand at that moment.
He will bring victory to this.
He will bring life.
He has kept His promises.
Every heartbreak I have ever faced has led to such a sweet, sacred road in life and I am holding on for dear life and with every breath within me that this will be no different. It’s all we can do, and it’s all I honestly have left.
But, I saw God in the face of every nurse that went above and beyond for this sleeping prince and us as the whole delivery floor cried together. I saw God when I looked at my strong husband, giving every ounce of strength he had to put it all into me when I felt I couldn’t labor anymore.
I saw God in the face of my OB who has been through every step of this journey with us for the last three years and has stuck by in every way. She came in on her day off, putting to be with us and cry with us. I saw God in the women who came to take pictures and offer their experiences and support.
I saw God in the face of my 15-month-old son, who smiled at me the minute he saw his mama. This road is just beginning, with the weeks to come being the hardest part, but my son has made an impact in the world far greater than I have ever managed to do.
Grief is so much like the weather. One minute you are hanging out in the sunshine and the next you are in the middle of the ocean, pummeled by the strongest parts a hurricane and barely able to keep your face above water.
I miss my son. I miss him in the middle of the night and the early of the morning. I miss holding his hand and looking at his sweet sleeping face. I miss him kicking my belly and making my ugly feet swollen every afternoon. I miss everything that would have been.
I will never forget the moment I found out his heart stopped while wondering how mine was possibly still beating.
I know God has a plan. I know He has a mission far greater than any of the future firsts we would have had with our sweet boy. I will never stop confessing my love for my sweet son. I will never stop looking and longing for the sunshine.
If you are in this place too, hold on. Keep clinging to Jesus. Or if you can’t, just know He is clinging to you.
You are good God. Even on the worst days, you are good.
And, lastly, I saw God in my son’s sleeping face. Because he was perfect, he is at peace and out of harm’s way, being rocked by Jesus forever and until I get that chance one day. If I can’t have him right now, I surely wouldn’t want him to be with anyone else; He is in paradise.
Originally published on: https://facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10104732828710199&id=7821100
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Photo Credit: James Sawatzky Photography
About the Author: Heather is a mother of one miracle and seven angels, one of which she carried and delivered in her third trimester.
Cheri says
March 10, 2019 at 8:35 pmMy daughter died when she was 5 1/2 months old. My Dad told me, a few years ago, to be thankful for all the bad stuff she has missed – no one picked on her, she didn’t have her heart broken by a careless boy – she, like your precious son, has been safe in Heaven and they probably have been playing together