Dear Lightning Bug,
It has been over two weeks since I first held you in my arms, over four months too soon. Two weeks since we gave you your “real” name, Alexander Gregory. Two weeks since we told you goodbye.
I am so sad that you aren’t with us, inside me anymore. Every doctor I had spoken with had reiterated the same sentiment: there was no reason to expect you to be born as early as your brother John Blaise. This was not supposed to happen.
But it did. So Daddy and I have ordered your grave marker, we have made arrangements for a memorial mass tomorrow. We have your ashes in a two-inch-tall urn on our mantle, where your big brother’s sat nearly three years ago. And we will bury you by your brother.
All of this is supposed to give me some kind of closure, people tell me. Of course, most of those people have never lost a baby. I’m not expecting anything quite so magical. I am hoping for peace at least. I am hoping for scar tissue to close the wound, to desensitize me enough for the waves of anger to subside.
God and I have had many one-sided “heated discussions” lately. He knows I’m angry. I know I just don’t see the big picture. I trust this isn’t “God’s will” but something He will lead us all through. But right now, it’s hard. It’s really hard, LB. I miss you, little boy.
The days are getting easier, I guess. But some moments are unbearable. Please pray for your mommy, Alexander. And the rest of us who miss you so dearly.