My sweet boy. Happy four months.
The fourth day of the month will always tug at me. I spend it remembering you.
How hard we all fought to keep you. How patient I was. How hopeful we were becoming. How quickly you were gone to be with Jesus. How much you were loved as we passed you around and you were showered with kisses. How there were moments that were exactly like I'd imagined they be. How there were moments I still can't imagine happening.
In these past four months, I have experienced so much. I have done so much. All because of you. All because you were born four months early. You were born in September. You were supposed to have been born next week. This is the reality I cannot get a grip on.
You have been gone almost as long as I carried you.
I'm beginning to learn a lesson. A big lesson. The hardest lesson one will ever have to learn.
Accepting that you aren't and never were mine. You are God's child. He entrusted you to me. I carried you so that his purpose can be carried further. I carried you, but you are his.
|01/04/12 Sunset at 5:38 p.m.|