Friday, April 16, 2010
I went to visit Ty in the cemetery today. I spoke out
loud today the following thoughts, hoping that maybe Ty could hear
me:
Ty,
For someone who hates math, you sure have made me do a lot of counting! I counted dates and numbers for the entire 13 months we tried to get pregnant with you. And the counting only continued...
Hours until I could find the right time to tell your dad I was pregnant.
Weeks until we could hear your heart-beat. 10, to be exact.
16 weeks to find out we would raise a son.
20 weeks to be sure you were indeed still a boy, and you were growing just fine - minus a little worry about echogenic bowel in the ultrasound. But it was nothing. You were perfect from the start.
39 weeks, 3 days when we held you in our arms.
2 hours of sleep here and there throughout the nights...for a while.
8 weeks when you gave us a true, undeniable smile.
2 months, 6 days when your dad gave you a name and a blessing.
10 weeks when you rolled over 3 times in five minutes from tummy to back.
3 months when you laughed so long and loud that we never stopped craving the sound!
4 months when you finally rolled from back to tummy! You tried so hard for weeks and finally succeeded. We were so proud of you.
4 months, 1 week, we started you on rice cereal.
4 months, 17 days, your dad and I each had a lasting, special moment with you that evening.
4 months, 18 days when you returned to our Heavenly Father and Jesus.
And I'm still counting. But the counting that once began with your earthly creation now marks our days apart.
1 month, 6 days that we have missed you. Every day.
If I could, were the knowledge made known to me, I would anxiously count the days to the Millennium, when your dad and I will raise you again - when we will hold you in our arms and love you just as we did the day you were born. Since I can't follow a countdown, instead, we will just keep counting forward, one day at a time.
Ty,
For someone who hates math, you sure have made me do a lot of counting! I counted dates and numbers for the entire 13 months we tried to get pregnant with you. And the counting only continued...
Hours until I could find the right time to tell your dad I was pregnant.
Weeks until we could hear your heart-beat. 10, to be exact.
16 weeks to find out we would raise a son.
20 weeks to be sure you were indeed still a boy, and you were growing just fine - minus a little worry about echogenic bowel in the ultrasound. But it was nothing. You were perfect from the start.
39 weeks, 3 days when we held you in our arms.
2 hours of sleep here and there throughout the nights...for a while.
8 weeks when you gave us a true, undeniable smile.
2 months, 6 days when your dad gave you a name and a blessing.
10 weeks when you rolled over 3 times in five minutes from tummy to back.
3 months when you laughed so long and loud that we never stopped craving the sound!
4 months when you finally rolled from back to tummy! You tried so hard for weeks and finally succeeded. We were so proud of you.
4 months, 1 week, we started you on rice cereal.
4 months, 17 days, your dad and I each had a lasting, special moment with you that evening.
4 months, 18 days when you returned to our Heavenly Father and Jesus.
And I'm still counting. But the counting that once began with your earthly creation now marks our days apart.
1 month, 6 days that we have missed you. Every day.
If I could, were the knowledge made known to me, I would anxiously count the days to the Millennium, when your dad and I will raise you again - when we will hold you in our arms and love you just as we did the day you were born. Since I can't follow a countdown, instead, we will just keep counting forward, one day at a time.
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