Dear James,

Today, I should be 38 weeks pregnant with you. If you were anything like your brothers, your incessant kicking would be driving me crazy at this point. I would be whining to your dad about how much I was over being pregnant—even though I secretly love it. He knows it too, so he would just laugh and remind me that I asked for this.

You see, ever since your daddy and I were mature enough to have conversations about our future lives together (we met when we were naïve little high school kids), we knew we wanted you. We’ve always wanted to have a house full of boys, with at least one little girl thrown in there somewhere.

I’ll admit that I was surprised to find out you were going to be a boy. My pregnancy with you was completely different than my first two with your brothers. Your brothers’ were a breeze. Yours was my difficult one. You had me sick as a dog for the first three months—to the point where I wouldn’t even leave the house without making sure I packed a barf bag. And the one time I forgot to pack one, I had to throw up into a diaper while I was in the car… super clutch thinking on my part. Your dad was impressed! So when the ultrasound tech pointed out the unmistakable little nub on the screen, I about fell off the table. I was so sure you were going to be a girl.

Once the shock wore off, and I had resigned myself to the fact that pink was not going to be in my future any time soon, I got really excited to meet you. I dreamed about taking you to the river this coming summer. You would be a sweet little nine-week old babe when it gets warm enough to start taking the boat out for beautiful South Carolina spring afternoons. I would wear you close to me in the Baby Bjorn, but we would still have a baby life jacket for you, just in case. Your brothers would splash around in the shallows with your dad; and I would snuggle you on the sandbar, letting your olive skin soak up the warm sun—I would be jealous because I’m sure you would already be tanner than me, thanks to your daddy’s hallowed Greek genetics.

I dreamed of teaching you to love the outdoors, especially climbing trees and swimming. You wouldn’t be afraid to get dirty—and that’s something that you’d get from your momma. You’d probably be little, but you would be brave. And I know your personality would be huge. Your dad and I would teach you to be kind, respectful, and humble; though I’m sure at times, you would be bull-headed (something else that comes from me). Your grandparents would laugh and remind me “the apple doesn’t fall far.” Speaking of grandparents—you’d be lucky enough to grow up with all of yours alive and nearby, a blessing that we’d make sure you understood and appreciated.

I dreamed of the relationships you would form with your brothers. Your dad and I would raise you to understand that siblings make the very best friends. You would love your brothers. And they would love you. They probably wouldn’t share their toys at first, but I know they would eventually come around. Then they would protect you and teach you things. Your oldest brother would teach you to love books and trucks and that Paw Patrol is the greatest TV show ever. Your middle brother would teach you how a little persistence and whining goes a long way in getting grownups to do whatever you want them to. He would also teach you how to be fearless and that vegetables can taste good sometimes; and if you eat as many bites as mommy tells you to, then you’ll get dessert every single time. I have no doubt you would have grown up to look just like them. Even when you were born at only 20 weeks, you looked identical. We have some strong genes in this family, I tell you what.

Writing this hurts my heart, baby. I know you’re in the happiest place—a place I can’t even begin to comprehend or understand. I can’t help but wish that you were here with me. For some reason that I’ll never know, God needed you more than we did. I wish that wasn’t so hard to accept. It does bring me comfort to know that you never experienced pain or sadness—only love and warmth. I pray that you know just how wanted you were, little buddy. Because you absolutely were. I love you with all my heart and then some, sweet baby boy.

Love,

Mommy

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Lindsey Wilder

Lindsey is a millennial wife and mother living in South Carolina. She was raised the oldest of three girls, so being a boy mom is a whole new ball game for this momma. When she isn't chasing her boys around outside, she enjoys traveling, antiquing, repainting Jenny Lind high chairs, or drinking wine on a dock someplace beautiful. Fluent in sarcasm and humor, she also enjoys documenting her little family's southern life at http://thedixiebellemommy.com/

My Baby Was Stillborn, But Still Born

In: Child Loss, Grief
My Baby Was Stillborn, But Still Born www.herviewfromhome.com

My baby was stillborn, but still born. In a cool white hospital room where so many had been born before. My body trembled and shook as his body worked its way out of my womb and into the hands of a doctor. He was void of breath, of sound, of movement, but he was still born. My baby was stillborn, but still lived. In the darkness of my womb. The outline of his body was visible against the darkness of the screen, his presence undeniable. The sound of his heartbeat drowned out the sound of mine as I watched his...

Keep Reading

I Am Not My Child’s Death

In: Cancer, Child Loss, Faith, Grief
I Am Not My Child's Death www.herviewfromhome.com

We are NOT what has happened to us or what this world says we are. That is not what defines us. While we are grieving parents, that is not what our whole story has to be about. Although, at times, we feel that our story is over. We ask, how do we go on and live full lives without our sweet Sophie with us? I’m still not 100 percent sure I know the answer to that. BUT the Lord says I am beloved. I am redeemed and accepted. I am holy and chosen. I am righteous and complete. I am...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Moments After Losing a Child

In: Child Loss, Grief, Motherhood
The Hardest Moments After Losing a Child www.herviewfromhome.com

Within the first three months following the death of my newborn daughter, I participated in one baby shower, attended two first birthday parties, had multiple infants in and around my home, and watched not one, not two, but five of my closest friends take happy, healthy babies home from the hospital. And in the midst of my own life-altering experience, I purchased, wrapped, and mailed a gift to every one of those new babies, because they deserved one. In the days and months after my daughter died, I didn’t run away or hide from babies at all. And this seemed...

Keep Reading

6 Commitments I Made to Myself After Child Loss

In: Child Loss, Grief, Kids, Motherhood
6 Commitments I Made to Myself After Child Loss www.herviewfromhome.com

Following the death of our infant daughter, I found myself facing an opportunity to activate the immense power of personal choice. Time and time again. Hour after hour, day after day. It felt as if every moment that passed provided me with a choice: to let the grief consume me, or not. In the midst of the most emotionally complex experience of my life, my ability to survive felt as simple as that. Will grief consume me, or not? Once I began believing that Olivia had lived out her life’s plan completely—that she had come, she had loved, she had...

Keep Reading

To the Moms and Dads Who Suffer Loss: You Are Not Alone

In: Child Loss, Grief, Infertility, Motherhood
To the Moms and Dads Who Suffer Loss: You Are Not Alone www.herviewfromhome.com

You are walking the hardest path anyone will ever walk—living this life without your children. Your losses have come in many shapes and sizes. You’ve lost tiny heartbeats early in the womb. You’ve screamed and sobbed through labor to deliver a silent but perfect little bundle. You’ve held a fragile infant for hours, days, weeks, or months, only to give him back to Heaven. You’ve watched your little one grow into a curious toddler and then held her a final time as disease or an accident took her away. You’ve lived a full childhood with your baby and even watched...

Keep Reading

A Letter to My Mama, From Your Baby in Heaven

In: Child Loss, Faith, Grief, Miscarriage
A Letter to My Mama, From Your Baby in Heaven www.herviewfromhome.com

Dear Mama, I know you miss me and wish you could watch me grow up. But instead, you sit in that rocking chair, tears streaming down your face, arms wrapped around the blanket that was supposed to be mine. I see you crying, Mama, wishing you could hold me. Wishing you could look into my eyes. Wishing you could hear me cry or call you “Mama”. I want you to know Jesus rocks me to sleep every night and while He does it, He tells me all about you. I know tulips are your favorite flower and that every spring...

Keep Reading

God Actually Does Give Us More Than We Can Handle

In: Child Loss, Faith, Grief
God Actually Does Give Us More Than We Can Handle www.herviewfromhome.com

I used to be someone who said, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” That was before I had faced any hardships in my life. I didn’t know who God truly is. When people are going through something hard and decide to share it, it makes people uncomfortable. It’s hard to watch others who are hurting, and it’s hard not knowing how to help when it’s someone you love. “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” is a very well-meaning encouragement that I know is meant in love. I’ve said it before! But it’s not really...

Keep Reading

Why I Got a Tattoo With My Teenage Daughters

In: Child Loss, Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Why I Got a Tattoo With My Teenage Daughters www.herviewfromhome.com

“We should get a tattoo, Mom.” I laughed. I knew it was just my younger daughter, Sarah’s way of getting herself a tattoo—to go along with her nose ring, and six ear piercings. She didn’t really want me to get one. Did she? “Truth!” My oldest, more conservative daughter, Elle, chimed in. “We should all go.” What? Home from college just five minutes, maybe she was bored. I heard tattoos really hurt and she hates pain, like I do. I glared at my two daughters, now 17 and 19. They can read my mind. I knew it! There was something...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Sure How Long I’ll Need an Antidepressant to Feel Normal…and That’s OK

In: Cancer, Child Loss, Grief, Mental Health
I'm Not Sure How Long I'll Need an Antidepressant to Feel Normal...and That's OK www.herviewfromhome.com

I tried to wean off of Zoloft and couldn’t. And that’s OK. I had never really been aware of the world of antidepressants. My life has been relatively uneventful—with the normal ups and downs that most of us go through. I knew people on medication for depression but never understood. How can you be THAT sad that you can’t just be positive and make the best of your circumstances? How can someone be THAT unhappy ALL the time to need medication? I didn’t get it. I felt bad for people going through it. Then my 2-year-old was diagnosed with Stage...

Keep Reading

To the Young Warriors Fighting Cancer, You Are Superheroes

In: Cancer, Child, Child Loss, Health
To the Young Warriors Fighting Cancer, You Are Superheroes www.herviewfromhome.com

Most people never get to meet their heroes. I have, in fact—I have met many heroes. These heroes didn’t set out for greatness; they fell victim to a terrible disease and faced it with courage, might and bravery like I have never seen before. And when we talk about this type of battle, there is no such thing as losing. whether the battle ended in death, life, or debility, each of these heroes defeated. My heroes are the innocent children who battle cancer. I high-fived, hugged, wept over, laughed and played with my heroes for 10 years as a nurse. And you better believe I...

Keep Reading