My dear, sweet Ellis,
Today you would have been one. That means, a year ago I held
you in my arms for the first and last time. How could a year have passed
already? I think of you so often throughout the day. Sometimes I wonder what it
would be like to have you here. Or sometimes I try to imagine what your life
must be like in Heaven. Mostly, I just plain miss you. My mama heart grew the
moment I found out about you and kept growing until the day you were born. From
June 27th on, it has felt like my heart might burst with all the
love I have for you. But with nowhere to place that mama love, I could feel
myself being crushed from the inside out. You are missed, my little one, and
you are loved. Oh, are you loved.
In my mind, I find myself replaying the events leading up to
your arrival, as well as the moments that define your birthday. Although I don’t
always feel the intensity of the ache I did then, I find the mere memory of that
day allows me to feel it all again. People keep telling me that with time the
pain will soften. In many ways I’m grateful. It’s hard to live life with this
aching burden permeating every inch of my soul, but I don’t want to forget how
I felt in the days when I was closest to you. It’s part of my experience with
you and that is something I don’t want to lose.
Remembering your birthday also reminds me of so much good.
You were born alive and I held you in
my arms. That alone is evidence of God’s grace and kindness to us. But, He didn’t
stop there. He allowed so many members of our family to be there when you were
born and many others to join us later that day. He looked on us with favor when
He allowed such kind nurses and doctors to be on duty while we were there. And
His peace and presence was so evident that day. I remember feeling like the
gates of Heaven were opened up in that hospital room. Daddy and I held you
first, but later we knew we had handed you straight to Jesus. I’ve never
experienced anything like it. Ellis, the joy of that day was that although your
life wasn’t meant to be spent here on Earth, I know you are living healthy and
whole in a place I don’t yet know. You were healed that day. Not in the way I
had hoped and prayed for, but something I’ve come to learn is that the ways of
our God are perfect, even when it doesn’t match my plan.
Early this morning we went to your tree. When the clock
turned to 5:08am, Daddy and I recalled the joy of that moment. “He made it! He’s
alive!” Your strong Daddy exclaimed. We held you, watched you breathe, experienced your life. It was short, much too
short. And the seeming injustice of celebrating your birthday by standing in
the quiet next to a tree instead of with loud shouts of “Happy Birthday!” and
singing to you for the hundredth time that day weighed heavy on my heart as the
minutes at the tree ticked by. I don’t always know what to do with those
feelings, but our big, good God does and even now, as my heart hurts so deeply,
He’s meeting me here like He did in that room one year ago today.
I hate that I’m writing a letter to you that I don’t know if
you’ll be able to read. It feels like I need to cram a lifetime of love onto
this page, but Ellis, I know there’s more to look forward to. This isn’t the
end. “He has placed eternity in the human heart,” and I can’t wait to meet you
there someday.
Today, Daddy and I will do our best to remember you well. We
want to celebrate your life, acknowledging the great gift we were given when
God allowed us to become your parents.
I miss you, Baby Bear. Happy Birthday.
Love, Mama
