Charlotte is 41 days old today. For 41 days I have held her and snuggled her and kissed her and cherished her and soaked in every ounce of her absolute perfection. The very thought of losing her devastates me and makes me physically ill. The idea of having her taken away from me literally makes my stomach churn and my heart race and my head throb. I love her so completely; without any reservation …and condition. She is a very real piece of me; albeit separate and apart, but that I could not live without.
My sweet Jack only lived for 41 days. For 41 days I sat by his side and ran my fingers through his hair and sang soft lullabies and whispered sweet somethings. I loved and cherished him so fiercely and so sincerely and each day I fervently pleaded and prayed for his miraculous recovery and that the doctors would find a way to save him. The pain of watching him suffer and knowing he would not survive was devastating and debilitating. When he was 41 days old, I lost him. He was taken from me. And as certain as I was that I could not bear losing a child that I loved so much, I’m equally certain that my Heavenly Father was there with me. Loving and comforting me so fiercely and completely. I felt Him so surely when my little boy passed and was finally placed in my arms for the first time. In my moment of certain devastation, He was there. He carried me through that terrible heartbreak, just as He always has and always will. There is not a doubt in my mind that families are eternal and that my boy is mine forever. I so look forward to the day when I will hold my little boy again. I am certain I am being held by my Heavenly Father in the meantime.