Baby Jake

I thought of you with love today, but that is nothing new.

I thought about you yesterday and the day before that, too.

I think of you in silence.  I often say your name.

But all I have are memories and your picture in a frame.

Your memory is my keepsake, with which I’ll never part.

God has you in His keeping.  I have you in my heart.

I shed tears for what might have been.

A million times I’ve cried.

If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.

In life I loved you dearly.  In death I love you still.

In my heart you hold a place, no one can ever fill.

It broke my heart to lose you but you didn’t go alone

for part of me went with you, the day God took you home.


February 23, 2013


My dearest baby Jake,

It has been 30 days since I last held you in my arms. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and miss you. It’s hard to put into words the deep love that I feel for you and the sorrow in knowing that I do not have the chance to raise you.

Others may find it difficult to understand my grief, for they see your time here to be so brief. What they don’t understand is that I’ve loved and cared for you from the moment I was blessed to have you inside of me. I got to know you during the 23 weeks we spent together. I felt you move. I heard your heart beat as you heard mine, and as my belly grew, I knew you were growing, too.

It is not fair that I don’t have you here with me right now. It is not fair that I had to pick out your urn instead of your crib. It is not fair I had to plan your memorial service and not your birthdays. It is not fair that I prayed for a son and now you are gone.

Your daddy and I found out the harsh reality that we will not be able to keep you on December 27th. In spite of the statistics presented to us by our honest, yet sympathetic doctor, we couldn’t take your life. Each time we felt your kicks and heard your strong heartbeat, we believed you were fighting to hang in there. Who are we to end a life that was so graciously given to us? Your daddy, sister, and I held tightly to the hope that you will overcome the odds.

The nurses that took care of us during our 18-day stay in the hospital were very supportive and encouraged me to hold on to hope. The early morning that you quietly came into this world on January 11th, the nurses wept. I was touched, for that meant they cared for you, too.

Leaving you behind at the hospital was one of the saddest things I had to do. I wanted to take you home just like all the other mommies did with their babies. I was so sad I would never get to hold you again. Imagine my bliss when that wasn’t so.

Although at the time we didn’t know it, Daddy and I found the right place for you to stay until the day of your cremation. Sonya was heaven sent. I was able to visit and spend time with you. It’s funny to look back on the day when I thought if I couldn’t keep you, I didn’t want to see you or hold you. Forgive me for my ignorance. The eight days that I got to spend with you, holding you in my arms, were truly special and were more than I imagined I would be spending with you. I thank God for the time he allowed me to have with you. You brought joy and love to my otherwise grieving heart.

My dear son, your brief moment with us has been a blessing, you have a purpose, a reason. Your existence mended the broken pieces in my life. I truly learned of a love that is unconditional and a grief that is so profound. I discovered new heroes that I otherwise would not consider. I have a new appreciation for life and that God is truly in control of all things.

Thank you my son for leaving such an impression in my life. You will always be in my heart.

Love you always,


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