It has been two months since we lost you, and I think about you every day. My heart broke the moment your mother called me from the hospital to tell me you had passed. It is so hard to put into words how devastated I am. It breaks my heart that I will never have the opportunity to care for you or to see you grow up. Even though you are physically no longer with us, your presence is felt in our hearts daily. You’re my beautiful son, and you’ll always be a part of me.
We had concerns that something wasn’t right early on during the pregnancy, but the doctors assured us more than once that everything was fine. Your mama lit up when she told me that she heard your heartbeat for the first time, and now it’s difficult not knowing what went wrong. I try not to get lost in ideas that there was something I could have done to save you. Maybe that’s foolish of me to think, but sometimes Dad thinks he can fix everything.
During Advent, I made a commitment to pray with the daily scripture readings. I prayed for you and your mother’s health every day. Some nights I would get on my knees before the Blessed Mother statue in our living room and ask her to take care of you and your mother. After a few good appointments, I started to believe everything was going to work out fine. I was sensitive to everything I read from the daily readings and Gospels. I felt consolation when I read the stories about Hannah, Mary, and Elizabeth and their new baby boys. Like them, I desired my baby boy would be born healthy more than anything.
We didn’t think we were ready to give you a name yet. We had fun talking about different names with your siblings, and we really liked the name Noah. Since your name Noah means “rest”, we knew it was the perfect name for you. I couldn’t speak the words that you were gone when I tried to make phone calls. It was too hard to say, so I hung up to type it in a text message instead. Another daily reading hit home that day as I read about the speechless Zechariah writing his son's name for the first time.
It was early morning on Christmas Eve when we came home from the hospital without you. We just wanted our baby boy. The next day was Christmas. On the most hopeful day of the liturgical year, I stood frozen at Mass gripping your mother's hand, trying to hold back tears. I missed you, and it broke me to see your mama in so much grief. I miss you every day, but your mama and I know you're in the greatest care.
We know this because your mama saw your little face in a dream she had shortly after you passed. You were all swaddled up and in the arms of a woman. Mama told me the woman held you, she could see your face and in her dream, she felt like you were okay. I asked Mary to care for you and wrap her arms around you so many times that I am convinced it was her holding you.
It's hard to accept that I'll never get to meet you in this life, but you can bet that I'll do everything I can to see you in the next life. This is how you continue to be a grace in my life. While you were in your mother's womb, you inspired me to pray more deeply than I ever have. In this way, you brought me closer to God. Now your little footprints inspire me to be a better version of myself every day in hope that one day, we will be together.
I love you, Noah, with my whole heart.