Filling with Love

Told by: Kristin

I found out I was going to be a mommy when I was 16. The first four months went as expected then a week after I found out I was going to have a boy I miscarried my son. I have birth to my son Jonathan Wayne on September 9th 2005. He weighed less than a pound and barely looked like a baby. Now eight years later I have a husband and stepdaughter that I love dearly but I still feel like something’s missing. I hope by sharing my story I can find peace with his death.

He Loves My Rainbow

Shared by: MeSee More

To the love of my life,
You looked over my shoulder as I typed the words to my previous letter. You did not know what I was doing, but you knew I was in deep thought and hard at work. You chased our daughter, my rainbow baby and you’re first born, as I bared my soul to another man. You saw the tears building in my eyes as I recalled precious, painful memories. You placed your hand on my back assuring me that whatever the reason for my current state, you were by my side. You have however, not always been at my side. There is a time in my life that you only know though what I have shared. Deep, gapping, painfully raw wounds exposed to one who was not present when they were inflected.

Why you, you are a bereaved father as well. The same way you chose to be a father to the two children I was solely parenting here on earth, you were aware from the beginning that there was another child in which I parented in heaven. Like so many other things in which we share differing beliefs on, you never lacked an understanding of how important it is to me to parent all three of my children. So, while you may argue that you are not a bereaved father, in your love for me, you are.

I say this not because you knew the pain of anticipation meet with devastation. Not because you were the one at my side when I learned the truth that would forever change who I was. Not because you held my son’s tiny, lifeless, still body. Not because you were there in the weeks, the months, and even the immediate years that followed. I say this because you chose a me the was devastated. You accepted that I was a different person because I had suffered the loss of a child. You cradled me in your arms as I longed for just a moment or two more to cradle the son you never meet. Although you were not a part of my life in the weeks, months, and years immediately following my loss, you are a part of my life now and you are committed to forever.

Where life, loss, and love have let me down, you have elevated me to a place of peace which I never knew existed. You have encouraged me to embrace those things in life which have made me who I am, to love who I am, and to be the best me I can be. You have taught me to see obstacles as opportunities, to dream big, and to know that whatever ever path I felt lead to follow, you would be there cheering me on. It is because of you that I was able to return to school, to obtain the degree in which will allow me to minister to others, to answer a call to do what I do.

You have cheeked book bags, cleaned up vomit, attended school functions, kissed boo boos, repaired broken toys and nursed broken hearts. All the while helping to keep house as well as supporting our family financially. Long before you ever knew the love of a child of your own, you had made mine your own. No one has ever loved my children or me the way that you love us.
Here we are a little better than five years into marriage and I have the father I always dreamed of for my children, the love I always hoped of for myself, the education I had long since given up hope for, and the most beautiful, perfect, stunning rainbow baby girl that anyone has ever been blessed with. You have given me all of this and so much more. And you have not only given to me and to our children, but you have given to others. In your support of me and my passion for other bereaved parents, you have allowed me to give as well.

In my studies I was taught that there are five stages of grief. The first is denial, followed by anger, then bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. I believe what separates the grief of losing a child from that of other losses is that it is impossible to accept the loss of a child. Not that one lacks the understanding that their child is gone and that nothing will ever bring them back, but accepting that such a thing could happen. How does one accept the death of their child? Not many are able, but you, you accept that I will grieve forever more.

I thank God each and every day that you have never known the pain of loss, yet I also thank him that you understand what such pain does to a person. I thank you so much for all that you are to me, and to our children, both the children here with us as well as those who are not. While you may never consider yourself a bereaved parent by blood, you are by circumstance. Today and every day I celebrate you.

Happy Bereaved (Step)Father’s Day,
All of my Love now and forever,
~ MeSee More

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