Monday, December 17, 2012


My dearest Annaliah,

How I wish you were here.  On this day six years ago, you were expected to arrive.  We thought that this day (or one close to it) would go down as the day our lives were permanently altered for the better.  We thought we'd have a child - you - and that we'd have someone we were responsible for for the rest of our lives.  We had visions of holding you and dreams of sticky fingered hugs and slobbery kisses and heart warming giggles.  We had faith and hope and expectation.

Today, we don't have you.  We don't have any children living with us on earth.  We don't know what it is to get up at night with a crying baby or to struggle with a car seat or to have to put a child's needs above our own.  We don't know sticky fingers or slobbery kisses or giggles or smiles or cries of delight.  Your voice doesn't fill our home and your body doesn't fill our arms.

We are without you.

And it hurts.  It hurts to be without you.  It hurts to be "just us."  It hurts to not know parenthood.  I remember when you were on the way.  One day in particular stands out.  Your daddy and I were driving around, thinking about looking for a different apartment - one that would be better suited to life with a child.  We had a CD playing, from your Grandma Arlene.  The sound of children singing filled the car, and I smiled as I looked at your daddy.  We were both truly happy.

I miss that feeling.  The feeling of unquenchable joy mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear.  I miss knowing that regardless of what went wrong or right, in just a few short months we would have a child of our own.  I miss the way it felt like everything was going to be just fine.  Because since you've left, we've known a lot of heartache.  We've cried a lot and spent a lot of sleepless nights.  We've held hands as doctors deliver yet another negative report and we've scraped and scrambled to make ends meet so we could have just one more chance at parenthood.  We've weathered a lot of storms, sweet child, without you.

But this is temporary.  We will not spend eternity without you - we will spend it with you.  The day is coming when we will get where we are going.  And on that day, we will see you face to face.  We hold onto that hope and that dream, and it gives us light when everything around us looks dark and grim. 

You make heaven feel real.  You keep eternity on our minds and in our hearts.  Child of mine, even though I am without you, I am grateful for you.  You have changed me, and your daddy too.  We aren't the same and we never will be.  Even without you, we are with you. 

We love you.


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Optimistic Existentialist said...

Wow this was so touching and movie. You really have a beautiful blog.

Ken Herschell said...

Baaba Kennet said,
Dear Ones, Never give up hope. I prayed for a couple in Guinea in West Africa. No child after 10 years. Family and village wanted him to divorece. One year after I prayed he knocked at my doorsaying Baaba Kennet, Mu wife is in the Hospital with a little son. She won't put him down. I dedicated this baby Musa in the name of Jesus in the middle of a Muslim Village