I had held him for 36 weeks and 1 day, cherished his kicks and hiccups, loved and endured his feet in my ribs, felt my body grow and change to accommodate my ever growing baby boy, imagined our life with him, prepared and planned for his birth;
but today, today 18 months ago at 11:08am, I held him in my arms, and wept with the aching sorrow of a mother's heart. A mother.
I had already been a mother for 36 weeks and 1 day. I had felt the overwhelming responsibility of caring for another, a child. I heard his heartbeat and saw his movements on an ultrasound machine, saw my body growing along with his, felt his kicks, rolls, hiccups and punches; and today I saw his body with my eyes and my hands. His mother.
18 months later, I hold him in my heart, and rejoice for him and the life he is living with his Heavenly Father.
"Think of your child; then, not as dead, but as living; not as a flower that has withered, but as one that is transplanted, and touched by a divine hand, is blooming in richer colors and sweeter shades than those on earth." ~ Richard Hooker