Friday, May 13, 2011

my sweet, stinky headed son

by my watch it is 10:54 PM.  I have a pretty big day tomorrow and should really be sleeping right now.  a year ago right about now I was telling some nurses that it was time to get serious about pushing.  we were so close to holding our baby. 

I believed, we believed that God was going to heal Gideon.  That we were moments away from meeting a little boy who would defy odds.  Who would make doctors scratch their heads and bewilderment and know that only God could be the explanation for such a little boy as this. 

its 10:58 PM by my watch.  One year ago I was one and a half hours away from that final push that would bring our little man into the world.  I probably shouldn't stay up too late, and staying up until 12:28 AM is really too late. 

tomorrow we are having a party, an open house with cake and gifts.  Gifts to be giving to other babies who, I hope and I believe, might be born because Gideon was.  Because somehow their mommies heard Gideon's story and were touched by his courage and challenged to believe that every life deserves consideration.  I am excited about the prospect of loading my car to the brim with gifts given in Gideon's honor to our local pregnancy resource center. 

But really, I'd be more excited to be celebrating this birthday with him, changing his poopie diapers, smelling his stinky head, and kissing those sweet cheeks.

they were such kissable cheeks! 

Right now I am not overwhelmed with sadness.  Just quiet and still.  I made a commitment to myself through this grieving process not to try to make myself feel anything but what I feel.  Right now I feel grateful.  at 11:06 PM I feel grateful.  Because one year ago I was giving birth to my son. My sweet, stinky headed, blue eyed little miracle who, I am a little suspicious, changed the world for better more in 11 months than I have in 31 years. 

Its 11:11 PM and this year I go to bed knowing my Gideon is healed, believing they celebrate birthdays in heaven.  For those of us celebrating down here on earth, I'll see you tomorrow sometime from 1-3.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Dear Little Man

My dear sweet little boy, My mighty warrior, my handsome little man,

Yesterday was mother's day, tomorrow will be a month since you left us.  This comming Saturday would have been your birthday.  I miss you so much.  I wish I could send mail to heaven but even more I wish heaven could send mail back.

I know that you are whole now.  No more head changes, no more darkness no more mean nasty diaper rash.  What a beautiful place to be.  How much do you love grandma Linda, I bet she can't enough of you!  Have you met Jason yet?  What about grandpa Jenkins?  what a hoot they are!

And though I know you are in the best place, I ache to hold you again, to play with your sweet little toes and kiss your cheeks.  I miss the sound of your cry and your baby bird face when you knew you were going to get some mama's milk.  I miss the way you sucked on your fingers and hated to eat any food but what I gave you.  I miss how much you loved to nurse.  I miss your cuddles.  No baby will ever cuddle like you.

I miss feeling what it felt like to be holding a miracle.  I miss holding you.  Being a mom is the job i was made for, and with out you, every thing just feels off.  I walk around all the time feeling like I am forgetting something, my tummy hurts and the other day I didn't even want ice cream.  I'm so scared I won't get to a momma again, and scared that that makes me a bad mom or means i didn't love you enough for my time with you to be enough.

i thought it would get better over time, and I guess that's true eventually.  I think, maybe, it has to get worse before it gets better.  Because I miss you now more than ever.  I cried more today than I have in weeks.  It just flattens me out of no where and I cry like puking with the stomach flu, unstoppable and messy. 

I am sure this is the first of many letters I will write you.  You, my sweet little gnome, have been the most wonderful teacher I have ever had. When the dust has settled and I clean up more of this mess I'll tell you about some of the wonderful things you have taught me

...who am I kidding, I can't clean this up any better than Angus can get his tennis balls out from under the couch.  So I guess I'll do what the dog does after he comes the the conclusion his effort to contort himself under the abyss of the couch has failed.  I'll look up.  Well, I guess that makes one lesson I can tell you that you have taught me boooga.  Look up. 

I love you times infinity and I miss you even more.