Dear Judah {3 years old}

Dear Judah,

I can't believe it's been three whole years (plus a couple months...) since you were born! I can hardly remember what life was like without you. It seems like lifetimes ago that you were born, and just yesterday at the same time. It does feel like it's been much longer than three years ago that you were a tiny baby - you are so big and grown up now, it's hard to imagine you as a baby. I love the Timehop app on my phone because I get to see pictures of you three years ago, two years ago, and one year ago often. It's crazy how much a little person grows in the first few years of life.

We had a little party for your third birthday with our small group, and I made you a construction site cake. You were so excited and joyful about it all, it was a delight to watch.

You never stop talking these days... whether you're creating an imaginary play world for yourself, or telling me about something that happened (in real life or in your imaginary worlds), or asking me if you can go somewhere or do something. You hold entire elaborate conversations with the characters in your imaginary worlds. Your vocabulary and sentence structure is impressive (I'm obviously biased, but you are an excellent little talker and many people comment on it). You recognize your numbers and letters, and you love to show off by "spelling" your name to anyone who will listen :) "J-U-D-A-H! That spells ME! It's my name!". You recognize many common signs/words that we see a lot... you can spot a Chick-Fil-A from a mile away, ha. Target, Costco, Hyvee, IKEA, Whole Foods, Aldi, McDonalds (the big yellow M!), Freddy's, and lots more... you always point them out as we drive by. You recognize the words "Judah, Mama, Papa, Nana, Thomas, Sarah, Baby" because we often spell them with magnets on the fridge, or write them on your easel. You like to make letter shapes out of things like beads and sticks - your favorite letter to make is "T"

You love to ride your balance bike around the front and back yards like a crazy child... up and down hills, lifting your feet up to coast along, zooming around like it's second nature. You will be ready for a pedal bike soon, I think! We are SO VERY GLAD that winter is over. Being outside makes our days much easier.

You are grasping deeper concepts and asking lots of questions now, and we are finding it difficult to explain things to you in ways that you can comprehend. We recently had Easter and that was a hard one to explain! You can rattle off the whole story of how Jesus died on the cross for our sins and then rose again to conquer death so that we can go to heaven. But you are still confused... "But WHY did Jesus have to die, mama? His friends are going to miss him!". You were also confused that not everyone can become alive again after they die! (Many of your imaginary games involved characters dying and then coming back to life for a few days, haha). These are all hard things to understand even as an adult, so it's difficult to know how to discuss them with a curious and very imaginative three-year-old!

You want to know how everything works, and where everything comes from. You certainly keep me on my toes with all your questions. And of course, the ever-present "Why?"... "But WHY mama?"

You are the best big brother, to Theodore and baby sister. You remember Theodore and talk about him often. You adore baby sister and are constantly rubbing my belly, talking to her, telling her you love her and how cute she is, giving her hugs and kisses, and trying to get her to kick you. You can hardly wait for her to come out!

Your train table and your play kitchen are two of your favorites right now. You make up stories about your trains as they travel around the tracks, and you love to cook us "dinner" and bake us all kinds ot cakes and cookies and pies in your kitchen. Being outside is another favorite thing... with your bike, lawnmower, and your new-to-us little climber, wagon, and cozy coupe. You also love to "pretend drive" my car or Papa's car. You could spend hours just sitting in the driver's seat, buckling and unbuckling your seatbelt, pushing all the buttons that we let you push, pretending to fill up with gas, go shopping, get ice cream....

We recently moved you from your toddler bed (converted from your crib) to a big boy bed. You love it and transitioned just fine, but it was hard for momma! You slept in that crib/toddler bed for over three years. I have a picture of the very first time you slept in it, and one of the very last night you slept in it. I can't believe how big you are getting.

We love you, big three year old!!! Eventually I'll get around to sorting through all the pictures and posting some.....

Dear Theodore {10 months}

04/23/2015 - 10 months in heaven

Dear Theodore,

Some days are just harder than others, and usually your month birthdays are days like that. I wake up with a deeper ache. It hurts more that there is only one little boy snuggled up next to me in the morning as we wake up. I stretch my arm over the spot next to me and shed some quiet tears that you are not there, while Judah builds his little nest on the other side.

To be honest, this month has had a lot of hard days. It kind of started out on the wrong foot for me - when we let your nine-month balloons go, the wind was weird and they got stuck in the tree in our front yard. I laughed it off, but it actually really bothered me. They didn't float off into the horizon like they usually do, and there wasn't a sense of release or "letting go". Instead, they stuck in our tree and slowly deflated or popped. I tried not to look at them. I am fully aware that when the balloons float away, they come down somewhere and get stuck in some random tree or pop or deflate.  I know it's silly, but having it happen right in front of my eyes was disheartening, and it just seemed to kick start a sad month.

This month also contained Easter, which was just hard. Another "holiday" without you... more traditions that should have been with two boys... egg hunts and Easter baskets and enjoying the beautiful spring. Judah was very interested in the Easter story this year, and it was hard to explain it to him in an age-appropriate way. It's not an easy one to comprehend even as an adult. It was such a tender subject for me this year, and I was a bit of a wreck for most of a week. He died and rose again, to save us from our sins... so that we can be together in heaven one day. I just struggled so much with the reality of this world, the suffering, the pain, the separation from loved ones. This life on earth, it is a Holy Saturday. The dark wait before His return, before the "He is Risen!". Some days it seems too much to eek out an existence and hope is hard to grasp.

The countdown to your baby sister is getting shorter, and the emotions and anxiety that go with that have also really hit me this month. She will be born within days of your first birthday in heaven, and I wish I knew exactly when she will arrive so I can prepare my heart a little more for the onslaught of joy and sorrow that will happen in the same week. Moving through the weeks and milestones at the same time of year as I did with you last year is bittersweet. Never in a million years did I think I would be pregnant again this year - I thought I would have you in my arms. "The mind of a man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps" - Proverbs 16:9.

O God, who holds all souls in life; 

and calls them unto Yourself as seems best: 

we give them back, dear God, to You who gave them to us. 

But as You did not lose them in the giving, 

so we do not lose them by their return. 

For not as the world gives, do You give, O Lord of souls: 

that which You give You take not away: 

for life is eternal, and love is immortal, 

and death is only the horizon, 

and the horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.

- Rossiter W. Raymond

I came accross this poem some time ago, and I've read it over and over. Yes, God gives and takes away... but not in an eternal sense. Only on this earth. This sorrow-full earth. God gave us you for nine short months here, but for an eternity in heaven. As far-off as that seems, and as painful as this life on earth is... we will see you again. A sweet friend reminded me today that time in heaven is different from here on earth - maybe for you, no time at all will have passed until we meet again in that whole and perfect place in the presence of our Savior. That brings me peace. I cannot protect Judah from sorrow and pain (that is hardest part of being a mother), but you are in the very arms of Jesus - never to suffer, never to want, never to miss us or long for us like we do for you.

A year ago right now, we had just moved into our first house - bought with the  anticipation of bringing you home to our own house. One of the main reasons we decided to buy a house was so that our children would have a place to really call "home"... to put down some roots here and settle in. This is your house just as much as it is ours, though you never got to come home to it.  I am very attached to it - you lived here inside of me for two months, and I labored here with you before I knew you were gone. It has harbored us during our grief, and helped heal us with it's bright and airy atmosphere. Our first house has very much become our home, and you are very much a part of our home.

I can never predict when a hard day is coming, or what odd thing will trigger deep grief. There have been many hard days this month, and it's been draining. I can understand why - we are getting closer to the one-year mark of saying goodbye to you, and closer to meeting baby sister all at the same time. I am anxious, exhausted (I guess two pregnancies in less than two years will do that), and grieving. I just miss you so much. As we were leaving the cemetery today and climbing into the car, Judah said sadly "But what about baby Theodore? I really miss him"... like he wanted to somehow take you with us. Sigh. We all really miss you. You and baby sister are going to be my Irish twins... I wish you could both be here on earth. 

We love you, little Theodore... 10 months old, I can hardly believe it. We've lived a lifetime in 10 months, it seems. And yet I can vividly relive the day you were born. I wouldn't change it for the world, except of course to have gotten to keep you here on earth with us. I love that I got to carry you for nine months, and that we got to meet you... heartbreaking though it was. You are worth it all.

Love, Momma, Papa, Judah, and baby sister

Dear Theodore {9 months}

3/23/2014 - Nine months in heaven

Dear Theodore,

You were born on a Monday, the 23rd of June. This month and last, your month birthdays have been on a Monday. It's been strange. I always look back to Sunday the 22nd of June with such heartache - it was the last day before our world crumbled and would never be the same. And it was SUCH a good day. We went to church... I still have the bulletin that Thomas and I played the connect-the-dot game on while taking sermon notes (how old are we?!). We came home, had lunch, and skyped with Nana and Grandad. Then off we went to Touch-A-Truck where Judah had the time of his life climbing through dump trucks and firetrucks and tow trucks and school buses. From there we went straight to our church's summer picnic, complete with inflatable water slides, pools, and sprinklers for the kids... it was so fun and we got to talk with many of our church family. I was hugely pregnant with you and everyone was excited that you would be here any day. The whole day, I just had this feeling that it was our last "hurrah" before our sweet baby boy arrived and we started our new life with him. And I guess I was mostly right - except for the devastating fact that we would be starting our new life without you. We had no way to know that before the end of the week, we would be having your memorial service.

Nine months ago right now, on another Monday, I was in labor with you. The physical agony was nothing compared the pain of the knowledge that I would be giving birth only to say goodbye. Your birth has given me the courage to face every day since then. I think to myself "If I got through that, I can get through anything... I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Women often say that giving birth is the most painful thing you might face on this earth... I can guarantee you that it's not. Giving your baby up to heaven is... it is true physical, mental, emotional agony.

Bereaved motherhood is a hard journey. Nine months in, most days are manageable... I can take care of Judah, get housework done, prepare meals, run errands. But there is always a hole, always something missing. On hard days and anniversaries like today, the hole seems bigger and more achy. It's like being desperately hungry, only nothing will satisfy you. It's a deep ache that longs for you to be home with me, my Theodore, and yet recognizes that this earth will never be home.

There is a song by David Crowder that plays through my mind often:

"Come As You Are"

Come out of sadness

From wherever you’ve been

Come broken hearted

Let rescue begin

Come find your mercy

Oh sinner come kneel

Earth has no sorrow

That heaven can’t heal

Earth has no sorrow

That heaven can’t heal

So lay down your burdens

Lay down your shame

All who are broken

Lift up your face

Oh wanderer come home

You’re not too far

So lay down your hurt

Lay down your heart

Come as you are

There’s hope for the hopeless

And all those who’ve strayed

Come sit at the table

Come taste the grace

There’s rest for the weary

Rest that endures

Earth has no sorrow

That heaven can’t cure

So lay down your burdens

Lay down your shame

All who are broken

Lift up your face

Oh wanderer come home

You’re not too far

So lay down your hurt

Lay down your heart

Come as you are

Come as you are

Fall in his arms

Come as you are

There’s joy for the morning

Oh sinner be still

Earth has no sorrow

That heaven can’t heal

Earth has no sorrow

That heaven can’t heal

So lay down your burdens

Lay down your shame

All who are broken

Lift up your face

Oh wanderer come home

You’re not too far

So lay down your hurt

Lay down your heart

Come as you are

Come as you are

Come as you are

When I feel the weight of sadness and grief, I often say to myself... "Rest for the weary, rest that endures... earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal". On your month birthdays, I give myself the whole day without plans, because I never know what I will feel. Today I woke up with Judah, and the morning went fairly normally. I read something that made me choke up a little, but then I was ok again. As the hours went by, though, I've had this headache that's been building... like a storm brewing. I put Judah down for his nap, and he had some hard questions about life and death, and why Jesus had to die on the cross. I felt so inadequate to answer them in a way that he would understand. As I rocked him and sang "Jesus Loves Me" before he climbed into bed, I felt the floodgates begin to open... I managed to hold it back until he was tucked in and on his way to dreamland. I sat down to write this letter and let the tears out as the headache slowly faded. I call them "grief headaches" now, and they often surprise me, but I'm learning to recognize them. One of the things that's hard for me right now is that each month, it gets more difficult to picture you at an older age. We are only three months from your first birthday in heaven. It fills me with sorrow when I realize this is the month that Judah started walking and looked so grown up to me... and I will never know what you look like at nine months old. Earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal...

This afternoon when he wakes up, Judah and I will go pick up nine blue balloons to let go when Papa gets home, and some bright flowers to bring some light and beauty into the house. We'll all go visit your little grave... Judah will ring the windchimes and spin your pinwheel and we'll pray. It's not how we pictured celebrating your birthday every month, but it brings us some peace. One of my projects this month is planting a little flower garden memorial in the corner of our yard next to your hydrangea... plenty of bright colors and beauty.

We love you, Theodore Robert. I have no idea how heaven works, but this month I will imagine you taking your first wobbly steps surrounded by angels and light and love in the presence of Jesus.

Love, Momma, Papa, Judah, and baby sister

A few pictures during labor with you, nine months ago right now:

Close up of my necklace, that I wore during labor with you and with Judah

Precious snuggles