Nine years ago today was Thanksgiving Day in 2007. I delivered my second son, Matthew, at Emory Hospital in Atlanta. He was so tiny and so incredibly perfect and so wholly loved. I held him for hours after he was born, trying to ingrain every single feature of his little face, his perfect hands, his ten tiny toes in my memory forever. My son was stillborn.
When I came home from the hospital with all physical after-effects of having a newborn, but an empty nursery in the room next door, I was so alone – emotionally anguished and physically exhausted. Just three days later Honey had to remind me that the very next day was John’s birthday. Again, I felt overcome with inadequacy that not only could I not safely carry and deliver my own child, but I had been neglecting the one I was so tremendously blessed to have. I looked in the mirror at a sad, tired woman and I promised myself and my husband and BOTH of my sons, John and Matthew, that I would not ever take them for granted. And so I got out of bed, lit up the house with the Christmas decorations I had put in place the week before, and loved and celebrated a two year old John.
Against the advise of all of my doctors, I became pregnant with Whit four months later. In losing Matthew, and with his autopsy and extensive testing by many specialists, I learned that I have a blood clotting disorder. The fact that I had safely delivered John was nothing short of a miracle. I was treated during my pregnancy with Whit, but still had pretty heavy odds of the same thing happening with him… or a slew of other things than can go wrong with blood thinners.
His pregnancy was hard and riddled with fear and shortcomings. There were multiple scares along the way. But 13 months after Matthew came Whit. The child I prayed for more than anything I’ve ever prayed for in my entire life. He was incredibly perfect. And he helped patch a hole in my heart.
Every year on November 22 I light up the house with Christmas. Nine years ago doing this was one tiny bright spot in a sea of dark. And so it has become tradition on Matthew’s birthday. I sit here now in the twinkling light of my Christmas tree and with my favorite hymns playing in the background and I realize that my sadness over the loss of Matthew has turned to gratefulness. His short little life so incredibly changed the way I live and parent. I am SO blessed to have my boys, I am SO humbled to be their mother, and I try SO hard to show them every single minute of every single day how much I love them. We really have such a short time with ALL of our children in the grand scheme of life and I never want to look back on these days with regret.
I want all of you that have lost a little one to know that you are in my thoughts and prayers today and that I am always here should you need a friend that’s been there. I find solace in knowing that while Matthew lived an incredibly short life, it was one filled wholly with love, joy, wonder and adoration. He never hurt, never wanted, never knew meanness or anger. And, until we meet again, I will spend my time trying to fill the days of the two little ones I was able to bring home with smiles, laughter, and unconditional love.
My cup runneth over.
DIXIE DELIGHTS DELIVERED
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