Dear Beloved Firstborn,
The amount I miss you, the literal, physical ache I have for us to be together hasn’t diminished, not even slightly. What may hurt the most is knowing that in this life it never will.
You will always be my son, my firstborn, but assuming life goes the way it should this time, there will come a day that you will no longer be my oldest. What a sick, twisted reality. I’m guessing that you knew before your Daddy and I did that you were going to be a brother. That’s likely one of the “perks” of being in Heaven. While there will be no trendy picture with you announcing this news to the world, I have no doubts you know it.
I can’t help but wonder if you have already met your sister. I’m not aware of any Biblical clues that tell us where souls are created, so I tend to think it’s possible. Actually, I hope the two of you have met. If so, I wonder what you may have told her. I hope you told her that she is a lucky girl because she is part of a family that already loves her beyond words, just as much as they will always love you. I hope you told her that your Mama craves for a little one to wrap their arms around her neck and dig their chubby little fingers into her hair to soothe themselves, just the way you use to do. Something in my very soul craves that so much that sometimes I take the teddy bear made out of special material printed with pictures of you and hold it close, wrap its arms around my neck, and allow myself to remember for just a moment what it was like when it was you instead. I hope you told her that her Mama will fight hard within herself against being too overprotective, but there will be times she is and she offers no apologies for that. I hope you told her to be nice to the dog and that if she toddles after her with toy golf clubs that she shouldn’t be surprised when the dog doesn’t trust her. Slipping food to her from the highchair tray later does not make up for this. I hope you told her that if her Mama calls her a monster, it's a term of endearment, just as it always was with you. I hope you told her that you don’t want to completely miss out on being her brother so you will be watching her as she grows. I hope you told her that one day we can all be together for the very first time and for all of time after that.
Your Daddy and I created your room with great care just for you. Now we are very purposefully recreating it for your sister, while making sure it still reflects you. I packed away many of your clothes and special things, all meaningful for different reasons. I packed away the paper I saved for you from the day you were born. I thought one day you might like to know what the headlines were that day. I packed away the paper with your obituary without looking at it. Proof of your death in black and white still hurts way too much. I packed away the cards offering congratulations upon your arrival and the cards offering sympathy after your death. I packed away the blanket that came home with us from the hospital when you were born as well as the pajamas you were wearing when you died.
You will always be my son, my firstborn, but assuming life goes the way it should this time, there will come a day that you will no longer be my oldest. What a sick, twisted reality. I’m guessing that you knew before your Daddy and I did that you were going to be a brother. That’s likely one of the “perks” of being in Heaven. While there will be no trendy picture with you announcing this news to the world, I have no doubts you know it.
I can’t help but wonder if you have already met your sister. I’m not aware of any Biblical clues that tell us where souls are created, so I tend to think it’s possible. Actually, I hope the two of you have met. If so, I wonder what you may have told her. I hope you told her that she is a lucky girl because she is part of a family that already loves her beyond words, just as much as they will always love you. I hope you told her that your Mama craves for a little one to wrap their arms around her neck and dig their chubby little fingers into her hair to soothe themselves, just the way you use to do. Something in my very soul craves that so much that sometimes I take the teddy bear made out of special material printed with pictures of you and hold it close, wrap its arms around my neck, and allow myself to remember for just a moment what it was like when it was you instead. I hope you told her that her Mama will fight hard within herself against being too overprotective, but there will be times she is and she offers no apologies for that. I hope you told her to be nice to the dog and that if she toddles after her with toy golf clubs that she shouldn’t be surprised when the dog doesn’t trust her. Slipping food to her from the highchair tray later does not make up for this. I hope you told her that if her Mama calls her a monster, it's a term of endearment, just as it always was with you. I hope you told her that you don’t want to completely miss out on being her brother so you will be watching her as she grows. I hope you told her that one day we can all be together for the very first time and for all of time after that.
Your Daddy and I created your room with great care just for you. Now we are very purposefully recreating it for your sister, while making sure it still reflects you. I packed away many of your clothes and special things, all meaningful for different reasons. I packed away the paper I saved for you from the day you were born. I thought one day you might like to know what the headlines were that day. I packed away the paper with your obituary without looking at it. Proof of your death in black and white still hurts way too much. I packed away the cards offering congratulations upon your arrival and the cards offering sympathy after your death. I packed away the blanket that came home with us from the hospital when you were born as well as the pajamas you were wearing when you died.
In your heavenly state I’m sure you know this, but still I need to say these words to you. Your Daddy and I having another baby in no way replaces you. It doesn’t “make up” for losing you or fix it in any way. Your sister will bring us great joy, but everything about this life is and always will be bittersweet without you here: every holiday, every Saturday morning cuddled up in our pjs, every family outing, every meal eaten together, her birth, bathtimes, bedtimes, playtime, time spent reading or coloring, ball games, graduations, marriages one day. Literally every moment of every day, no matter how happy is cast in the shadows of what should have been and wondering exactly how it would have been.
After your death I experienced a maddening internal struggle as I wrestled with making a decision about whether or not I wanted to have future children. The pain of losing you was so intense and I knew there would be inevitable anxiety and a multitude of fears. Yet, the thought that kept rising to the surface was that I couldn't imagine living life and never again experiencing joy, laughter, and happiness similar to that you brought me, even if bittersweet. You made me a mother and it’s because of you that I want to be an active mother again. All the hurt that comes with losing you is worth enduring simply because it means I got the chance to know you. I would never willingly give up being the mama of such a special little boy. Even if I had known I would have to give you up, if I could have picked for myself from all the little boys and girls to ever exist, I would have chosen you as my beloved firstborn.
After your death I experienced a maddening internal struggle as I wrestled with making a decision about whether or not I wanted to have future children. The pain of losing you was so intense and I knew there would be inevitable anxiety and a multitude of fears. Yet, the thought that kept rising to the surface was that I couldn't imagine living life and never again experiencing joy, laughter, and happiness similar to that you brought me, even if bittersweet. You made me a mother and it’s because of you that I want to be an active mother again. All the hurt that comes with losing you is worth enduring simply because it means I got the chance to know you. I would never willingly give up being the mama of such a special little boy. Even if I had known I would have to give you up, if I could have picked for myself from all the little boys and girls to ever exist, I would have chosen you as my beloved firstborn.
Love,
Your Mama Forever
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