365 Days

It’s been the longest, hardest, darkest 365 days.

365 days since the last time I held you.

365 days since I last time kissed your beautiful face.

365 days since the last time I whispered in your ear how much I love you.

Time is tricky. While it feels like forever ago that I got to do these things, it also feels like it was just yesterday that you left us.

That whole day feels like it was just yesterday.

It started out as the best day. We woke up and cuddled on the couch together, messing around with princess Snapchat filters. Once your sisters woke up, we had breakfast and set out on our daily scooter ride.

After we were all hot and tired, we went out back and had popsicles. Yours was blue of course. And you shared it with Savvy. Luckily, I got the whole thing on video.

I have a ton of pictures and videos of that day. I didn’t know it was going to be your last.

You had your light up pony shoes on. I remember telling everyone to make sure I got those back. I panicked because they were your favorite. I asked over and over again. I remember someone handing me them, still soaking wet, inside a white bag. When I took them out, I banged one against the counter. It still lit up.

365 days later, they still light up.

I don’t remember what the doctors told me. I remember walking up to your hospital room when a man in a white coat stopped me and asked me if I wanted to sit down. Firefighters and EMT’s were surrounding your bed. I think I knew you were no longer with us, but that solidified it.

I’ve replayed that scene over and over again, trying so hard to remember. It feels like a movie that I watched from above. I’ve woken up in a panic in the middle of the night more times than I can count trying to remember what they said. But I can’t, and maybe it’s better that way.

The sweetest nurse, who lost her daughter in a car accident, sat with me as I sat by your bed and held your hand. She rubbed my back and cried with me for what felt like hours. I kissed your head, prayed over you, squeezed your hand, and that was the last time I ever saw you.

So many people came together to celebrate you. So many people came together to help hold us up on what were the hardest days of our lives. That’s how many people’s lives you touched in your short 3.5 years here.

I wish you could see it all from here, but I know your view is so much better.

These 365 days have been the hardest season to walk through. They’ve broken every fiber inside of me, but they’ve also made me stronger.

Inside the breaking, I met the strongest version of myself.

I was really disappointed in God. I’d be lying if I said that has disappeared. There’s still a lot of hurt there, a lot of feeling that He let us down, a lot of anger. It would have been so easy for him to breathe air into your lugs. I often wonder why He didn’t do something so simple.

But why would I not want to draw near to the one who how holds you now? He is my last link to you. Running from Him is running from you. I’d rather chase you both with a furious love.

Instead of counting the days that it has been since I’ve held you, I’m counting the days until I get to be with you again.

It’s not 365 days ago, but 365 days closer to being reunited.

This year has taught me how to look at life through a different lens. When you look at the hurt caused in this life through a human lens, you will always see pain. If you can align your sight with God’s perspective, you see what He is doing rather than what the world reflects. You see Him moving, even when it hurts. You see glimpses of heaven in the middle of the storm from hell.

A close friend of mine asked me if I knew what would happen in the end, would I have still wanted to get pregnant with you. Would I go through all of the joy knowing it would only last 3.5 years until the pain came. Initially, I thought no. My family was broken. They were hurting. I was hurting. I wouldn’t ever choose to inflict that on anyone.

But looking back now, my answer is yes. Absolutely yes. You touched all of our lives in such an impactful way. You brought sincere joy to everyone who met you, weather they were family or a waitress when we would go out to eat. You made everyone smile. You made every one laugh. And you’re still doing that now.

You also brought me closer to Jesus. I am so thankful I got to have you, even if it was cut short. I got to grow you inside of me, nourish you with my body, and love you beyond comprehension. God gave me you, he choose me, and I’m so thankful to him for that. I’m so thankful that because Jesus died on the cross, we get to have eternal life in heaven. Because of him, you are in the best possible place. I thank him for that.

Because of you, I learned how to turn to him for comfort. I learned that the pleasures of this life are temporary. I learned that continuing to praise him isn’t me turning my back on you, it is facing towards you both with open arms. I learned that when you feel utterly broken, he is the only one who can heal. I now look beyond this life, I can see the bigger picture. I can look past the pain and the hurt and know that this isn’t the end.

We still miss you every second of every day. That will never change. The pain will always be there. We will always feel your absence. But we will hold all of the precious memories of you close to our hearts until we are reunited again.

Just like your pony shoes that still light up, you are still lighting up our lives.

Thank you for changing our lives forever.