Saved by Grace

My Dearest Grace,
If you could only know how much I miss you.  We don't even have a picture.  I had a pregnancy stick once, with a line that disappeared.  We never even met you, yet we miss you with a constant ache.  We have a car meant to seat six, a table meant for six, a home meant for six, everything in our lives is meant for a family of six--our hearts are meant for a family of six--yet, you aren't here.  Every one of your seats are empty, save for your place in our hearts.

I didn't miss your earlier milestones so much because I was concentrating so hard on Noah's, and then Avery's (and now Ezra's, as well).  Knowing how precious life is, I wanted to make the most out of every moment for your brothers.  In the process, I need to make the most out of their lives for myself.  When you lose a child, you realize just how important and precious the children you have really are.

It's starting to hit home now, though.  We've missed out on a lot.  We didn't just lose you, we lost moments and memories and dreams.

Watching Noah go to Homecoming a few weekends ago, I realized I'll never have the chance to shop for dresses and make up and shoes with you.  How I longed to clasp one of my necklaces around your neck, adjust your dress, help you with your hair.  After pictures were taken, with tears cracking my voice and sounding like a crazy lady, I begged the other girls to please send the pictures to their moms, "Things like this are important to them."  I won't have the chance to hug you, remind you to be careful and have fun, and send you on your way.  It was like ripping a scab off a gaping wound, grief renewed.  I was happy for Noah, but oh, the pain ran deep again.

Your dad confessed he misses the chance to dance with you, or walk you down the aisle on your wedding day.  

Noah confesses missing the chance to protect you as you grow up.  He misses the chance to grill your boyfriends, and be your big brother.

Grace, even in your absence, you've taught me so much.  I've never even held you, yet you've made me a better mom, a better friend, and a better person.  You've given me a better understanding of so much, a different perspective of so many things, and a greater love for other mamas.

Your loss has taught me how painful questions like, "when are you going to have (more) children" can be, so they are typically topics of conversation I stay away from.

You are one of the reasons we understand how blessed we are.  So many couples with miscarriage and infertility as part of their story don't have the opportunity to include three (biological) children as another part of their story.  You are one of the reasons your brothers are hugged tighter, and held closer.

You are one of the reasons I pray so fervently for good relationships with my daughters in law, for good wives for your brothers, and if they are God's will, granddaughters (I'll take grandsons, too--now I know what to do with boys, finally!).  I want to be part of their lives, part of the moments I've missed with you.

We lost out on so much, but in the end, we have been saved by so much grace.  We have been saved not just by God's grace, but by you, our daughter, precious Grace.

Until we meet again, for forever--
I love you, always and forever, forever and always.
Love,
Mom