One month ago today, I gave birth to my firstborn, Samuel Evan Moore. You!
You were never one to change positions to make people happy. When Dr. Mean (as we called him) tried to get a glimpse of your heart, you scrunched up tighter and tighter until he gave up. I wouldn’t have let Dr. Mean look at my heart either, Baby Boy. You also stayed breech, no matter how many times I asked you to stop sitting on my bladder. I had to push for a while, and even though we knew we had lost you, we were still excited to see you. I needed to see your hands, so I kept pushing.
After I had you, sometimes I would forget that you weren’t with me anymore. I would catch myself checking my tummy to see how you were laying, or I would start to talk to you. After a couple of weeks, I stopped doing it. But this morning, I caught myself doing it again. I miss you, Baby Boy. I’m so glad I got to be your mama.
I ordered prints of your professional photographs this morning. Your photographer prayed with us after he finished taking our picture, Sammy. He saw how valuable you were and captured a little piece of you with his camera. I also ordered your pendant and necklace. Your pendant is a symbol of the resurrection and has your name and birthday on the back. The chain is long so the pendant will sit right by my heart, just the way you will for always. These things will be so important to me as the years go by and I fight to hold your memory in my heart. It felt like the right day to order those things.
I am also saving a few of your things in a memory box. Some of my favorite things in that box are the letters from all the children who were praying for you. There were alot of children who asked their parents if they could pray for you, Baby Boy. Sometimes they would ask if you could be healed. Sometimes they asked God to get you ready for heaven. Their prayers are precious to me.
Daddy and I are doing well. We miss you. We cry every day, but we are OK with that. We love eachother, and we help eachother grieve. Sometimes we grieve together. Sometimes we grieve alone. We are trying to figure out how to wear your memory on our hearts. We don’t expect to ever be the same. We don’t want to be the same. You were far too special to ever be the same as we were before. We are better people because of you. We are a better husband and wife. And one day, we hope, we will be an even better Mommy and Daddy because we were your Mommy and Daddy first.
Your memory is worth holding onto, just like you were worth carrying, no matter the cost. Your Daddy and I are so glad God gave you to us. We love you, Sammy.