Dear Baby in Heaven,
I wish you could see me now.
Things have changed. Life has changed. I have changed.
And I couldn’t have imagined that I really would be okay.
For so long, I was a crumpled heap of flesh, gasping for air, too suffocated by grief to pull myself up.
Losing you shattered me.
And it was immediately obvious that the shards of my former self were beyond repair.
Losing you changed the way I saw everything.
Your absence colored my whole world black.
The person I was before you existed vanished when you did.
No longer could I control my emotions. No longer could I dam up the tears. No longer could I pretend to be stronger than the heartache of this life. No longer was I the person who floated through life—instead I had to trudge.
I didn’t think I could live without you. I didn’t think I’d survive. And some days I didn’t want to.
The day I lost you was the worst day of my life. And the days after, with an aching womb and empty arms, were equally as bad.
I didn’t think I’d make it.
But here I am. Still.
Still breathing. Still standing. Still alive.
Still missing you, yes.
Still wondering about you, yes.
Still reflecting on what it all means—losing you and living without you.
But somehow I’m still here in a place I thought I’d never see again.
A place with more laughter than tears.
A place with full arms and busy hands.
A place of hope and gratitude and healing.
A place that’s not quite complete, but that’s still good.
Losing you changed everything, especially me.
But so has living without you.
Because in your absence I’ve discovered that God works in the darkness. That he works in the strangest, most mysterious, and best ways. That even the worst experiences of this life aren’t enough to destroy me. Not forever, anyway.
In your absence I’ve grown. I’ve learned that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. That darkness doesn’t last forever. That life is a combination of grief and joy and that regardless of which cycle I’m in, goodness can be found.
And I have you to thank for that.
I wish you could see how far I’ve come, Baby.
Losing you broke me, but in some strange way, your short existence still managed to gift me with new life.
You were my little miracle who God is still using to work wonders in my life.
And with every step, I’m moving farther away from loss and closer to finding you again.
Looking for encouragement for pregnancy after loss? Find it here: Courageously Expecting: 30 Days of Encouragement for Pregnancy After Loss.