Sunday, July 31, 2011

5 years in Heaven

I'm late writing this years anniversary letter. I typically figure this stuff out in the wee hours of the morning. This year I've been thinking about what to say all day in my head. I was worried about sounding repetitious. You know, the same old, "I miss you" that I sputter every year. But, I am afraid that your letter this year will sound a bit redundant.

I do miss you. Every year that passes I miss you a bit more. I miss what should be, but isn't. My mind this time of year is plagued with memories of your death and I hate it.

It's a bit different for your birthday. I try to remember the moment I became a mother. I remember the smell of my first baby, the sounds you made, and these memories often trump the heart ache that follows.

The anniversary of your death is so vastly different. I remember that day like it just happened two minutes ago. I remember how you smelled those last few hours of your life. I remember your sweet little outfit and how you kept kicking of your shoe at the doctors office. And mostly, I remember the minutes and then seconds leading up to your death.

The flash backs of standing in the hospital hallway are overpowering. I can hear that strangers voice, a doctor, telling me you had left us. I remember standing there, falling to my knees, and the room blurry- nothing else noticeable except the words coming from that mans mouth.

I remember the look on your Daddy's face. Heartbreak. I remember how it felt. A soul changing moment in our lives. In every ones lives.

Sweet baby girl, I miss you. My heart aches that we cannot watch you grow and it rejoices for where you now are. People often say time heals all wounds. And while time surely changes the way we perceive death, your Daddy and I still miss you. We still ache for you. And we still very much wish the circumstances of your life were different.

It's really, really, unfair. It's unfair that your little sister thinks a ladder can bring her to Heaven to play with you. It's unfair that you were born with a body that was against you from the start. It's unfair that we'll never watch you grow old. But life is filled with things I'll never understand. I've come to a point in my faith that God knows more than me. He always has. It's taken me some time to grasp the concept that why I don't understand why you were born with obstacles to overcome- and then subsequently die as a result; I've come to the understanding that it's not my place to know. Now.

I hope that somewhere in Heaven you can hear us talk about you. I hope that you understand that while five years has passed, that we still very much miss and love you. And I long for the day that our family is hole again. Right now, without you, it's always, always, missing an irreplaceable link.

Love you and miss you to the moon and back our sweet, Zoey Faith.


Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Brenton: You're 9 months old

Happy 9th month, Sweet boy. You're three-Fourths of the way to 1 year. And I am seriously slacking on photos of you. I did take your monthly photo, but I am too lazy to upload it.

You're such an awesome little guy. Your personality is busting out more each and every day. You're sweet, feisty, and lovable. You're all things boy and I love it.

This month you've learned to pull to a stand(and fall, lots). You've also learned to stand unsupported for brief periods of time. You are often letting go and become shocked at yourself at what you're doing. It's adorable.

You've ditched baby food completely. You love, love, love to eat. And at an ounce shy of 22 pounds, it shows! I simply love all of your chub.

You love your sister. You love getting into everything and anything. Today, at your doctors, I had to scoop a dead beetle out of your mouth. I nearly threw up. You smiled. Sigh.

You still wake up a million times a night. If you learn to sleep through the night soon, I will buy you a car. Thanks. You love your blankey and love being rocked to sleep. You love playing peek-a-boo.

Motherhood simply amazes me. I look at you in awe. I am amazed that I was able to create such a perfect, beautiful, little soul. You make me a better person. You amaze me. Keep being you. My biggest wish for you in this world is view the world as you do now. Forget the sinfulness that surrounds our world. Love people. All people. Love God. Love yourself. And always, always, always, be a voice to be heard, not just for you, for the voiceless.

I love you. So, so, so, much. You're my amazing, chunky little man.

Love you to the moon and back,