The Missing Little Boy
As a Momma, you constantly have a running list of numbers you have to remember. Just in case, at any given time, someone asks you how old Kid A is, or how far along you are in your pregnancy, etc. So, the list of numbers in my head right now is as follows- Big Brother will be five in June, Little Girl is almost 19 months old, and I'm 22 weeks along with number four.
As I was relaying all this data to someone recently, it hit me like a ton of bricks that if those are the ages of all the kids here with me, that means that Gabe would be turning four this summer!
It was a very strange feeling. The best way I can describe it is that in my mind, the son I lost, the son I don't have here with me, is a little baby boy. He's swaddled in a soft white blanket. He's being held and loved in a hospital bed. His facial features look just like mine, like looking in a mirror. My sister points out his little nose, and his sweet lips, and the little curls on his head.
And for three and a half years I've done a pretty good job at not thinking about the "what ifs." Yet, somehow, the thought of my son being four years old has made me stop in my tracks. What would he look like? Would he be tall like Daddy? What would he be into? Would he want a train cake for his party? What would his relationship with his big brother look like? Would they be the best of friends?
And how would his presence in our family change those of us who are here?
It's a hard place to be, mentally. Going there. Thinking about the "what if" circumstances. And I guess that's why I don't allow myself to do this. But since I did, I just thought I'd share... Praying for comfort and love for all those parents feeling a loss more recent than mine, and praying perseverance and grace for those of us further on the other side of things.
As I was relaying all this data to someone recently, it hit me like a ton of bricks that if those are the ages of all the kids here with me, that means that Gabe would be turning four this summer!
It was a very strange feeling. The best way I can describe it is that in my mind, the son I lost, the son I don't have here with me, is a little baby boy. He's swaddled in a soft white blanket. He's being held and loved in a hospital bed. His facial features look just like mine, like looking in a mirror. My sister points out his little nose, and his sweet lips, and the little curls on his head.
And for three and a half years I've done a pretty good job at not thinking about the "what ifs." Yet, somehow, the thought of my son being four years old has made me stop in my tracks. What would he look like? Would he be tall like Daddy? What would he be into? Would he want a train cake for his party? What would his relationship with his big brother look like? Would they be the best of friends?
And how would his presence in our family change those of us who are here?
It's a hard place to be, mentally. Going there. Thinking about the "what if" circumstances. And I guess that's why I don't allow myself to do this. But since I did, I just thought I'd share... Praying for comfort and love for all those parents feeling a loss more recent than mine, and praying perseverance and grace for those of us further on the other side of things.
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