I miss you so very much. My heart actually hurts right now. I didn’t realize that a broken heart could cause such physical pain.

I am feeling angry right now. I am overwhelmed by the sadness of accepting that you’re not here with me.

You should be here right now. We should be playing together. I should be tickling you, kissing your tummy and toes, holding your little hand. I should be overwhelmed by the chaos of having three children, not by the tedium of perfecting your headstone design.

I hate that this happened to me. I hate that your dad and sisters are hurting because of this loss. I hate that all I have left is your gravesite and pictures of you. I’m so mad.
This should not happen. Babies should not die. My babies should not die. You should not have died.

…but you did. And there was nothing I could have done to prevent it or to save you. How unfair is that?

I love you and a part of me really did die with you. But, because of your death, I was able to trust in God and Jesus. I know they will fill the emptiness with strength, love, compassion, and eventually happiness.

I am thinking of you at all times with love and adoration.

My sweet son. I love you.


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