April 24: a day that should be the same as all others but isn't. A birth day, a loss day, a memory... perhaps, a day without a title.
One year ago today, I delivered my baby just past 16-weeks. I remember circling the halls to induce labor, wanting to get the day "over with" yet also wanting my little one to stay with me as long as possible.
A dragonfly card hung outside our room to signal to nurses that this was not a room of celebration but of sorrow.
We were presented with decisions we didn't think we would ever have to make, like if we would want to hold him and what we would do with his body once we were discharged.
I still remember the nurse taking a photo of us together once he was born. I sat there holding him, unsure of what to do with my face. Smiling didn't feel right. Crying also felt wrong.
I recall his tiny toes and fingers. I remember wondering what they would have looked like had he made it to his due date, if he would have been able to wrap them around my fingers.
And the worst moment? Saying goodbye. Leaving our baby at the hospital, driving away as if nothing had happened, knowing he was no longer growing inside of me. Facing the reality that he was gone.
Today is hard.
Yet, today, I want to honor him. I want to soak in the hope that last year's goodbye was temporary--that I will one day see my little Noah in Heaven.
Today, I celebrate that God is good, that He holds me in His hands, that He has a purpose in the pain. I reflect on the life I now live despite and because of this loss.
Here is to all of the other mothers who had to say "goodbye" before they could say "hello."
Here is to my toddler, who asked if we could take a helicopter to Heaven to see Noah on his birthday. (I really wish the world worked as toddlers imagine sometimes.)
Here is to the people who have surrounded us and loved us through it all.
Here is to Noah. We love you with all our hearts.
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