Dear Child of Mine,
It started at the mall—that moment I knew I was born to be your mom and that you belonged to me. Dad and I had decided to shop our separate ways—his, the hardware department; mine, the pharmacy, where I scraped $14.25 together, so I could tinkle on a wand.
20 minutes later, with new purchase in hand I watched, while the image of a plus sign announced your existence.
I had the kind of smile a kid gets when Grandpa lets them keep the puppy he found. It was a good smile—a very good smile.
December 25, 1996 was the day to celebrate our God who—clothed in mere humanity—had come to be with us. It was also the day that you, my little one—merely clothed by the flesh of my womb—had gone to be with Him.
A wise Dr. Seuss once said, “A person’s a person no matter how small.” He may not be ‘The Great Physician’ but I do agree with the doc on that one. I believe that, like you, each one of my children were a reason to celebrate life. Some stayed for only weeks, one stayed for 5 months, and your big brother Brendan is still hanging around after 18 years. I know you’d love his funny ways, but sometimes he tickles too much.
I never knew how long we’d be together—I wanted a forever. And yet when I did lose you—your existence wasn’t any less significant. Nothing was wrong with your perfect form, your spirit, or soul. I wasn’t a fool for thinking it would last. No. I am glad that I embraced your life and declared your existence to the world. It was simply a matter of His divine orchestration.
I’m grateful for a God who offers life, and by His Son—hope in the unseen things of this world. His Word teaches me that you are a treasure I hold, while reminding me that one day—one marvelous day—I’ll embrace you again.
For that short moment in time, I was a vessel that carried your fragile, growing little soul. Your days, though they were few, hold great purpose. You are, and always will be my child.
I am mom to four children on earth, and five born to heaven. A mom to nine, indeed.
You are loved by an almighty God,