I feel so blessed to get to be your mom. I wonder what you'll teach me. All of my children teach me something. And I am better because of that.
I obviously had no idea what those words would come to mean. But God knew. And He impressed that message on my heart, even then. The things I thought our child's life would teach me are different and yet far surpass my expectations. I've learned that when you step out on the open sea, it's not so scary when Jesus is holding your hand. I've learned just how precious the miracle of life at any level is and how I will take it for granted no more. I've learned that a mind focused on eternity transforms how we live out these fleeting, earthly days. In the book of James, he describes our life on earth as a mist that vanishes. I picture it like seeing my breath on a cold winter day...it appears for a second and then it's gone. That's my life. So the question is, how will I spend it? I'll keep surrendering and place all of my trust in the God who holds eternity in His hands. All because Jesus made a way for me to come to Him. I've learned that no matter what circumstances I face, God drawing me into a deeper relationship with Him is worth whatever rough terrain I must endure along the way. I didn't think I'd ever want to walk this hard road to get there but the reality of walking it has proved me wrong. I imagine Phoenix's life will continue to teach me lessons beyond these. Each new lesson is a wonderful surprise. Each one an opportunity for me to proclaim God's goodness and marvel in the beauty of His purposes unfolding.
My second - and last - letter:
My Baby Phoenix,
Oh, how I never wanted to have to write this kind of entry. Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. All of the dreams I had of you joining our family came crashing to the ground. I don't know at what point you stopped growing but yesterday marks the day when we discovered that you were gone. I was 11 weeks pregnant. So soon? My heart fills with so many emotions. Why?? My arms ache to hold you. My sweet third child whom God knit in my womb. I will miss you every day. The only reason I can continue on with joy and hope is because I know that God makes all things new and you are already in His arms, in Heaven and we'll get to see you when we get there. It seems way too far away right now. I can't wait to meet you and spend time together. What a precious gift you are. Grief is a strange thing. It comes in waves. Little triggers all the time. I know Lily is sad that everything has changed. She talks to me about it in her own way. She would have been a great big sister to you! And you would have gotten a kick out of your big brother. I can't dwell there very long. It hurts too much. I rest in knowing that Jesus will raise you until it's time for me and Daddy to be with you. The amazing thing is that we will be with you for far longer than we'll be apart. That soothes my soul like nothing else. I would really do anything to have you back with me. But this plan, even though it is excruciating right now, I know will glorify God somehow, someway...and I cling tightly to that promise. We chose the name Phoenix for you, not knowing what your gender is. I hope you like it. We felt it is important to name you, to acknowledge that you were as real of a person to us as any of our children. You were made by a holy God and you are sacred. We want to remember you and by commemorating your short life in as many ways as we can, I think will be healing. We are hurting right now but you are not, and never will. You will never know one ounce of suffering, pain or sorrow. Praise God! The arms of Jesus must feel so safe and secure. I will think about you, I will ask God what He wants to teach me through you, and I will share the glory and goodness of your life with others. I love you, sweet Phoenix. Until we meet...
~Mommy
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