Merry Christmas, My Babies...

At the top of our Christmas tree there are two simple, silver ornaments. The first has been there since the year our precious Owen died. The second we hung just last night. Two little silver ornaments, reflecting light at the top of our tree. Two little ornaments. One for each little boy we have lost.

This morning under the same tree, our little princess sang and danced. And the joy in our hearts was true and real and full. Christmas is wonder and joy and delight. It is cuddling our sweetheart, and feeling the reassuring, beautiful presence of her in our arms. Because joy and pain live separately in the same world, as our hearts rejoice and ache, are shattered and whole, all at the very same time. And with each breath this Christmas day, we breathed blessing and wholeness, heartache and longing. For the child we hold in our arms. And for the children who have left us, whom our arms ache to hold.

This morning I opened the most perfect gift. A small, sparkling necklace, reflecting the same silvery light as the ornaments at the top of our tree. Three tiny, sparkling hearts. One for each of our three children. One heart for each heart that has been joined with mine. My precious, perfect son in heaven. My beautiful daughter, cradled here in my arms. And my beloved baby boy, the child of my heart. Taken from my arms, but never from my soul.

Merry Christmas, my beautiful babies…

For My Baby, With Love...

Today I delivered Owen’s birthday hampers. Finally. Seven months after his birthday. My goal was to spend the time between Owen’s birthday in March and Mother’s day in May gathering items for the hampers. And all was going well. And then we got the phone call saying we were getting a baby boy. A precious little baby brother for Owen. And everything was put on hold for a while.

And then, of course, there was another phone call. And for the second time in two years our world fell apart. For the second time in two years, we lost a son.

So the hampers sat in our basement. Beside the car seat and the baby bath. Beside the bins of baby boy clothes, used this time, but only for such a short while.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I sat down and assembled my hampers full of baby boy things. Soft little sleepers. Tiny truck and train adorned onesies. Cozy little blankets in perfect shades of baby blue. Not to be worn or used by my baby boys. But for them, nonetheless.

We delivered our hampers to Pregnancy Options, and were given a tour by the director. I was instantly impressed by the work that they do, and knew for certain that theirs was a mission I passionately support. The staff told me with tears in their eyes about another mom who recently lost a child. She had gathered together all of her baby’s precious things – stroller, crib, bedroom furniture, everything – and brought them in to the centre. A short time later, the staff was able to pass those things along to a struggling new mom, who was incredibly touched by the story and blessed as a result.

Actually giving the staff the hampers was a more emotional experience than I had anticipated. Thankfully, one of my wonderful angel mom friends, Donna, was there to support and encourage me. And of course, my princess Nyomi was there in my arms. My constant little blessing. My never-ending source of joy.

It makes my heart smile to think of our little hampers being passed along to moms and babies in need. To think of the staff sharing Owen’s story. And to think of his little life, once again blessing others.

Thank you to all of you who contributed to Owen’s birthday hampers. Your thoughtfulness means more than you can know. I know Owen is smiling at this moment. And that makes my heart smile, too.

Thirty-One Months

My little Owen would be thirty-one months old today. Past the two-and-a-half mark, working his was towards three. It's strange to think of, because to me he is still a tiny newborn, cradled in my arms. Thirty-one months of missing my sweetheart, but only a moment for him. How I miss you, my little bean. How very much I love you. Happy birthday, little one...

Missing my Pumpkin

We went to the pumpkin patch today – your daddy, your sister, and I. And sitting on the hayride, the sky a brilliant blue, I remembered so clearly the year we took you to the pumpkin patch. You were so tiny – just a little bigger than a pumpkin seed in my belly. I’m so glad we took you there. So glad we didn’t wait until you’d been born into the world. I missed you today  - missed holding your sweet little hand, or helping you carry a pumpkin. But I also felt you there with me today. There in the clear blue sky, and the brilliance of the sunshine. There in the smiles of your little sister, who speaks of you daily with such joy and such knowledge. And there in our hearts – your daddy’s and mine. Your family who loves you and misses you daily. Your family that can only ever be complete because you are a part of us – now and forever. We love you and miss you, our sweet little pumpkin. And we’re asking Jesus to give you extra kisses and cuddles from us tonight…

The Remembering Tree

I am not ready to begin this blog. Not ready, but still I choose to begin. There is so much to tell of my story. So much to be done in honour of my little boys. My heart aches with missing them today. A complicated ache. Missing my Owen. Celebrating his baby sister. And missing their little brother, whom I have just so recently lost.

I celebrated my three children today, scattering rose petals at the base of a remembering tree. My daughter in my arms, we scattered petals for her brothers. Two precious babies taken from us too soon. 

This blog will never be perfect. Never as perfect as it should be for my little ones, never as beautiful as they deserve for it to be. But I choose to begin. Because theirs are stories that need to be told. And the honour of telling their stories is mine.