Friday, January 21, 2011

Dear Samuel

While we were in Dallas the first week of January, my mom gave me several hours one day to spend how I wished while she played with Caleb and Joel.  I spent part of the time at Starbucks writing a letter in my journal to Samuel.  When we were seeing Judy, our grief counselor, she suggested that if we ever got pregnant, it would be a healing exercise to write a letter to Samuel about the new baby.  So, I did.  Here it is:

Dear Samuel,                                                                        January 5, 2011

      Oh, my sweet boy, how I love and miss you.  I often wish you were here for me to love on, kiss, hold, get to know, learn what makes you happy and what makes you sad, cuddle you close at bedtime, hear you babble, watch you toddle around, see you wave hello and goodbye, savor every hug, enjoy you watching your brothers play and wrestle, chase you around the house, teach you what not to touch and put in your mouth, and just be with you.  I wonder often what you would be like.  What would your personality be?  Would you be calm and quiet like Caleb?  Silly and spirited like Joel?  Or completely different from either?  Someday I look forward to learning how God wired you, my sweet third son.
      We are in Texas now for Daddy to take a seminary class.  We've been to Pennsylvania and Arizona already.  I keep thinking how different this trip would have been with you along.  We saw June a couple of days ago, and I get lost in thought watching her.  I wonder about you as I observe her in life.  When she would hug me and bury her head on my shoulder, I would close my eyes and dream of holding you, my sweet, sweet Samuel.  She can wave, say a few words, communicate what she wants and doesn't want, and all the while I thought of you.  What would you be saying?  What would you think of June?  Of all our busy travels?  I watch Matthew and Ashley keeping up with three kids, and I I wish I was so tired from chasing you through Gab'm's house and rescuing you from whatever danger you've found or from walking with you through the zoo.  I wish I didn't yet know this new stage of parenthood with no sippy cups, diapers, pull-ups, or gear when we leave the house.  I wish parenting wasn't so easy these days, and I was wrangling my brood of three through these holidays.
      But when I think of you in Heaven, I never un-wish that for you.  I know you are perfectly, supremely happy and full and lacking absolutely nothing -- not even me.  And I am so glad for you.  I couldn't wish more for you than the everything you have.
      The biggest news in our house is that I am pregnant again.  Your little brother or sister is growing in my womb.  You and this baby would be 23 months apart -- how far apart Caleb and Joel are.  I can imagine that if you had lived, we would have been trying for this fourth child as a playmate and friend for you.
      This baby can never replace you, Samuel.  You will always be our third child, our precious son.  I wish this baby could grow up knowing all three of his or her big brothers.  If it's a boy, we will use Samuel as his middle name in honor of wonderful you.
      Sometimes it's hard for me to think of this baby growing where you grew -- where you were safe and protected and your body could depend on me to pump your blood, where your defects didn't really matter.  I hope this new baby is as safe and protected as you were in me and that he or she comes out able to breathe and pump blood and live fully in this world.  I hope I can watch this new baby grow and think of you all the while and what a gift you will always be to me and your dad.
      It makes me very sad to think our family will never be all together in this life.  There will not be a single picture of all of us.  Any picture of our new baby will be without you.  We will never be a complete family on Earth.  How I hope and pray all your siblings trust Jesus, and we can all be together in Heaven.
      Samuel, how I miss you.  I wish you could be with us as we hope for this new baby.  After you, I know there are no promises for a healthy baby and for life, but I hope for it, and I wish you were here hoping with us.
      Whatever is ahead with this baby, I have learned through losing you that God will be enough to see us through it.  He will give us what we need for each day as He gave us what we needed each day of your short life and each day without you.
      I love you, Samuel.  I am so glad you're my son.  I will treasure you in my heart always, sweet boy.  Merry late Christmas in Heaven.  I have no doubt it surpassed every conceivable Christmas I can imagine.


1 comment:

  1. I love you too, sweet Samuel! Love, Your Gab'm