It’s 10:00pm on a hot summer night in August. I’m sipping my chamomile tea with honey in the comfort of our air conditioned home, in good ol’ North Liberty, Iowa. You’d love it here. Your big brother is sleeping, the house is quiet, and I can’t stop thinking about you.
How’s heaven? As I grieve the absence of your arrival this week, a little grin rests on my face as I think about what you may be doing right now. Like basking in the warm sun of heaven (no sunscreen needed) or napping on the soft grass (softer than any Pottery Barn blanket I could give you). Maybe you’re sitting on our King’s lap as he reads you Goodnight Moon (you better believe I am trusting that He is taking care of this task for me). Or maybe you’re running up and down the hills like your big brother does here, but you’re pretty lucky, because the falls never scare you.
Sweetie, whatever it is you are doing, I pray with all of my heart that you are there, in heaven. That’s the only way I can get through this. I would do anything in my mama power to have you in my arms but I can’t. God knew He needed you with Him now and I can’t change His mind. I trust that He is protecting you from something unimaginable here on Earth because He knew I couldn’t (even though I would go through hell and back again to try).
Baby, how sweet it is that the first face you got to see was the face of Jesus Christ. I find that comforting, and quite honestly, it’s one of the only things that holds my head up in these times of deep sorrow. There’s a part of me that will always ache because of your absence. I wanted to feel exhausted from 2am feedings. I wanted to snuggle you and get nothing done around the house. I wanted to drop you off on your first day of kindergarten. I wanted to hold you when you scraped your knee, and I wanted to be the one that kissed it to make it feel better. I wanted to do life with you, but I can’t. Damn, you must have been a real good one if God wanted you all for himself.
But the good news is, is that someone way more capable of doing all of those things for you, someone I really trust, already has and will continue to do them. Jesus, our King of Kings and Lord of Lords, has wiped every tear that will ever fall from your face. He has already taken every ounce of pain from your being and decided to give you a perfect, painless, and joyful life for all of eternity. For that, I am grateful.
I love you baby, and I think of you every single day. Thank you for making me a stronger mother for Caiden. I miss you.