It's quiet in the house tonight. The boys are tucked into bed and Dad, who isn't feeling good, is already asleep. I am thinking about you. My mind runs over and over the details of what I remember of you. That kicking and moving in my belly for months. The sweetness and shyness that I felt was your personality. The love I felt for you through my entire pregnancy. And that sad day one year ago, when they hooked me up to the monitors and the familiar heartbeat that I had heard at so many appointments, instead was silence. I knew you were gone the moment I heard that silence, and that there was nothing I could do to change it.
Oh how I want you here with me sweet boy. Sleeping in a crib down the hall from me, tired from the day of celebrations for your first birthday.
I held you that day one year ago. You were beautiful. I wanted you to open your eyes and to know what color they were. I wanted to hear the sound of your cry. I wanted to feel warmth coming from your skin.
I love you, Adam. You are teaching me every day about love, about patience, about gratitude, about family, and the things that matter the most in this life. Your life and death has humbled me, strengthened my faith, and made me want to work harder in life, and be the person that God wants me to be.
I hope you can know how much I love you. How much I wish you were here with us. We all love you, and look forward to the day that we can hold you again.