Last week I went through Owen's scrapbook, lingering over the weekly belly pictures, the swollen ankles, cards from his baby shower. Running my fingers over the pictures of his stuffed animals, his crib, dresser. Such joyful smiles on our faces as we anticipated, as we waited. Loving all the while.
I flipped through pictures of his first birthday, his second and third... it only took a few minutes.
Hannah's scrapbook laid only a few inches away... full to the brim. (And I'm only up to 10 months.) It's stuffed full of pictures, band-aids, flowers, shower invitations, cards, pictures....
And his scrapbook, his is so empty, so bare that it breaks my heart.
Quite frankly, it makes me angry. It makes me so damn angry that I don't have a scrapbook full of his milestones, cards from his (happy) birth, band-aids from his first trip to the doctor, pictures of the first time he rolled over, smiled, sat up, etc etc etc.
I held his light scrapbook in my arms and I cried. His fourth birthday should have been a day full of happy yells of delight as he ran through the house, everything fun and good and exciting for a big four year old boy. Not a sad little cake that sits half eaten in our kitchen. Not a balloon release where we watch four blue balloons slowly fly away, getting smaller and smaller as they float into the distance. Not a day without its birthday boy. Not a handful of pictures for his tiny scrapbook.
But it was. And I can't change it. My tears, my longing, my anger- they won't change anything. Would I wish him here from Heaven? Would I wish his life was longer? Would I wish away my longing so I could hold him and watch him grow up? Would I.... ?
I don't know. I don't know. But my mother love misses him. My mother love longs for him.
His scrapbook may be bare, but his life was full. Full of love, joy, warmth and oh so much love. We loved him. Before we could gaze at his sweet little face, or hold him in our arms, before we named him Owen... we loved him.
And God loved him. God knew him.
This is your story, Owen. God knew you, loved you, called you by name and called you home.
This is your story, sweet little Owen. I may not have pictures of your first bite of cake on your first birthday, but I have a heart full of love just for you. This mother love will never fade. And the God love... well, you know all about that, and I can't wait to experience it with you- the way it was meant to be.