Eight months ago, I went from having slightly concerning pains to needing emergency surgery. Eight months ago, I found out I would not meet our baby on this earth. We named our baby Gift, clinging to the truth in James 1:17 which says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
Today was the day we looked forward to meeting Gift. This is the letter I wrote to our baby.
Dear Gift,
Five days. Sounds short down here, I’m sure it sounds ridiculous up in heaven, where a thousand years is as a day. We only knew of you for so long, but you changed us in such a deep way, putting eternity in our hearts like no other way.
We prayed for you before you were you. When we found out you were growing inside me, we were unbelievably and inexpressibly happy. Just picture the most perfect joy this side of heaven. The knowledge that you were already here, that we would meet you and love you and share life with you didn’t just make us happy. The world opened up and another dimension was added. Thinking about you was natural and unavoidable and delightful. I reveled in it.
While those days were so short, we packed a lot of love in them. You had our full, deep love from the very beginning. And you know what, sweet Gift? That will never, ever stop.
Realizing we wouldn’t meet you on earth was the hardest thing that has ever happened to me. Though eternity will show this life to not be long, the pain is deep and my heart is aching, bursting with love for you that I have to wait indefinitely to give you.
You know, precious Gift, you changed us deeply in such a short time. You taught us that loving deeply really is the best way to go, because you never know how long you have with someone. You helped us to see our Heavenly Father’s love in a deeper and sweeter and more robust way. You made the curse seem more real, the earth more wretched, and heaven more close and tangible and sweet. It is no longer just a place I read about. It is your home, and you are my precious baby. Part of my heart went to heaven with you.
I don’t know how long it will be till I see you. Longer than I would like. I would have loved to share the beauties of this imperfect world with you. You would make it so much more sweet and beautiful. But you know better than I that our Father’s way is perfect. Isn’t that awesome?
But when I get to heaven, when we join you, I think my heart might burst. I don’t know if I’ll cry or laugh or squeeze you first. There probably won’t be a first, actually, I will most likely do all that at the same time. That’s what a mommy’s love is like.
Until then, I am pouring into what God has given us here, especially your family. My biggest prayer is that your brothers will meet you, that we will all worship our Father together. You helped me realize even more the urgency of their need when we saw the brevity of life up close and personal. I pray with a full heart.
You are so deeply and thoroughly loved and missed. You are my precious baby, and I can’t wait to hold you. Until then, know that the sun will stop shining before we forget you. And when it does, we will be with you forever.
With my forever love,
Mommy
Thank you to Sarah Arnold for sharing her heart and meditations. Sarah resides in Quezon City, Philippines, where she ministers with her husband, Joel, and their two sons, Jeremy and Zachary.
