Wednesday, January 27, 2010

A Letter to Michael - Two Months

Dear Michael,

Today marks two months since we held you in our arms for the first time... and said our goodbyes.  Not a whole lot has happened since then, but I think we prefer it that way for now.  I still think of you every day.  And night for that matter... do I ever think about you at night.  Nights are the hardest time for me.  My mind always brings the memories of you right to the very front the second my head hits that pillow.

I think about the day I found out I was pregnant, the ultrasounds, the Primary Childen's visit, the loss, the induction, the labor, the delivery and the burial.  All things that either bring tears to my eyes or cause my heart to ache, or both.  But you know what my absolute favorite memories are?  The moments when I was able to hold you in my arms, kiss your sweet little forehead and tell you that I love you.

I do love you, Michael.  So much.

I'm so grateful to have had you in my life.  You have changed it forever, for the good, and I am forever grateful.

Losing you has made it impossible for me to fall asleep, made me break down into tears more times then I can count, caused me to smell your blanket each night in hopes that I will catch any sign of your scent, and made me feel a pain that is so deep and so raw that I wish it upon no other person on this earth.

Yet, losing you has made me feel more love than I have ever felt before.  It has made my faith firm, and it has strengthened my relationship with our Heavenly Father.

The pain that I felt when I found out we had lost you is still there and is very real.  But it is numbed by the knowledge I have that I will be able to see you again someday.  I am so grateful to our God who has made that possible.

I miss you Michael.  Thank you for all of the lessons you have taught and will continue to teach.  Thank you for making me a better person.

I love you forever,
Mom

2 comments:

  1. ugh, too tough. just too tough to have to go through what you've gone through. i can imagine myself not really believing that things wouldn't turn out well when i was told the chances were bad and then finding out that the baby had passed on being the grim reality that i couldn't fix or "faith" my way to the outcome i wanted. and yet you still carry on. and that is amazing.

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  2. Hil. Your words are so touching and make me well up with tears as soon as I start into that first paragraph. You always have me thinking about what it really is to be a mother. And you sure are a good one.

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