Today is a significant day for other parents like myself – parents who have a child in heaven. It is a day I find myself full of compassion for all of the other families’ stories I have heard over the past few years. My heart is sad not only for my loss, but for each and every baby that left behind heartbroken parents upon it’s death. I have learned that my capacity for compassion has grown incredibly over these past two years. Just as my love hasn’t run out for Leah, neither have my tears. They flow less frequently now, but I imagine I will always have plenty of tears inside to cry as I carry my love for Leah with me for the rest of my life. I miss her so much!
In remembering the pain of losing Leah, I am so keenly aware of another aspect of those memories. Is it the reality of the intense blessings that existed alongside the sorrow. So often the conversations about Leah last only a short time, only long enough to communicate that I have a daughter in Heaven. How I wish there were more opportunities to share about the deep blessings, purpose, joy and spiritual lessons learned through our journey with Leah. I am still just so proud of my daughter and the life that she lived. That’s the complexity of the word bittersweet. Yes, I am very sad. But, I am also incredibly thankful and full of appreciation for the journey as well.
Caring for Leah was a time of such clarity in terms of priorities. Everything unimportant simply melted away, and we were left with everything that was absolutely critical for us to be focusing on. We literally clung to the Lord, for each and every moment of Leah’s life. The distractions disappeared along with the less important things, and it made abiding in God so very simple. We talked more about eternal things. I remember trying to help Kyla understand the truth about Heaven. While Leah was here, I remember role-play with her how it might look upon Leah arriving in Heaven. We took turns practicing to be Jesus, opening up our arms with nothing but smiles and love as the other ran into them giggling with delight. I wanted Kyla (and myself) to fully grasp that although we are sad when someone dies, for those who know the Lord, Heaven is a wonderful place. The deepest desire of my heart now is to leave behind all the pain and evil of this world, and enter the perfection of God’s presence – and to once again be with Leah.
Living without the fear of death is not something that I believe many of my 20-something peers understand or can relate to at this point in their lives. But it is where God has me at this very moment. I’m fully trusting that He has a plan for me to still be here on earth, as my number of days are not through. But Leah’s are! Leah was never supposed to be here today with our family. Her number of days were ninety-nine after birth. While intellectually, that brings a great deal of peace and comfort to my mind, it is my heart which still aches. It still misses. It still loves.
So, on this day of remembrance, Kyla and I blow up kisses to Leah in Heaven. We light her Sweet Pea candle and take in the soft, sweet scent. I pray for all the other families who have children in Heaven. And I trust God to comfort their aching hearts, as only He is able to do. And finally, I will offer up my own prayer of gratitude to God for choosing me to be Leah’s mother. I treasure the memory of her life, and I am continually changed by the depth of my love for her. Her life still matters!
