I wonder what you are doing up in Heaven as I write you this letter. I think about this often. Are you with my dad? Have you met Tico yet? I wonder if you've ever met the big man himself... I wouldn't doubt it. You are one pretty impressive little fellow.


I've been having dreams lately about being pregnant. I shouldn't say dreams, they have been nightmares. I wake up in a cold sweat and I can never go back to sleep. I hyperventilate. I panic. I reach this whole other plateau of just bullshit. How do I tell your dad that I don't have the courage to ever try again? We are only 22 and I know he would not understand. I feel as if my body is a baby tomb. I don't want to lose anyone else. Not any of your future siblings, not your father, not your sister... not anyone. I feel so broken down inside, son. I feel like the ugliness and emptiness of my heart has slowly and surely begun to consume me. Inside and out. I am turning into the black abyss that swallows me whole most days.










I'm sorry that I am so random and scatterbrained tonight. I just want you to know everything that you're missing. I feel such a strong connection to you and writing to you really makes me feel like we have a relationship in some strange way.


I love you so much. You have changed my whole entire life, Eli. I remember seeing your beautiful face. Holding you in my hands. Knowing we would be together again someday. The nurse took you away from us too soon. God took you from us too soon. Life went on without you too soon. But I, my son, I will never forget you. I will never move on as if you had never existed.  The rest of my life time will march on and I will be stuck thinking about the time that you “were”. It is becoming extremely difficult for me to keep the balance of real life, mommy/wife time and still be able to grieve. How do I tell my almost 3 year old that I am crying again because I miss someone she never got to meet? How do I go through this process by myself because your father refuses to grieve, to talk, to even mention your beautiful name? I try to force myself to not get upset because I know that everyone handles these things in their own ways, I am just so tired of feeling so alone. These are the moments that I miss you more than ever. 


My daughter and I speak your name often. And with love. With admiration. With hope. With a sense of longing. I would trade anything in my life to be able to hold you again. See your one last time. You want my eyesight, God? It’s all yours. Eli, your name will never be whispered like a secret. It will always and forever roll off of my tongue like a song that only I know so well. I will never walk on eggshells around anyone and pretend that you have never existed just to make them more comfortable. You are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things to ever spend even the smallest moment on this earth and I will never take that for granted or swallow it inside of me to ease anyone else’s life.

There are several things I know for certain: I know you were here. I know I have loved you from the very first moment. I know you loved me. I know I held you in my hands. I know that most cans of soup weigh close to what you did at birth. I know you have changed my life; maybe even more. And I know you awaits us in heaven. 

I will go throughout the rest of my life telling your story, Eli Scott. To everyone who will listen and to those who won’t. To everyone who cares and to those who could care less.

Bottom line: You have died. I will never try to bury that deep down in myself. You are a part of who I am. You have made me who I am today. I will never be ashamed to talk to you or about you.

I love you, son. Your big sister sends her love, also. And I hope you can hear us every night when we talk to you at prayer-time. She always says hello and that she loves you. We are so very proud of you, my son, and we always will be.