holdTo my lil’ man:

I can’t wait to hold you. To feel the weight of your cute little form in my arms—rather than pressing on my bladder.

I daydream about you, doodling your name in my notebook like a smitten school girl. Counting down the weeks until your arrival.

So close, but so far away.

To the one I lost:

I can’t wait to hold you. Even though we spent only a few short weeks together before you passed, and I was only aware of you for a matter of days before you were gone—I still love you.

I also daydream about you, imagining if you were a boy or girl.

Wondering what you would have been like. And comforted by thoughts of you in heaven.

As a mom who experienced the pain of loss, and now prepares for the joy of childbirth, I feel the need to hold tightly and hold loosely all at the same time. To recognize the beauty of each moment. To relish every chance I have to stroke my baby’s face or dry his tears—even when these moments come in the middle of the night. To honor the gifts of children and release them—all of them, all the time—into the Father’s hand. He holds you much better than I ever will anyway.


This post is part of Five Minute Friday’s, a five minute weekly reflection on a word prompt. No edits, no do overs, just write. “No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.”

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