WINDSday Letters: Dear Scout

Dear Scout,

It's incredibly windy in the South today. One of those windy days that makes you think of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day, where Pooh says: "Happy Windsday, Piglet!"

So, Happy Windsday, Scout! You would be almost 28 weeks now, and you'd probably already have some A.A. Milne on your shelf, simply waiting to be discovered. I would have bought you books galore, little one. Mountains of books!

The last time I wrote to you, you were very small and new inside your mommy, and I was sitting on a bench by the Brazos River on a ranch in Texas. I prayed for you that day because your mommy was really rather sick already and you are the first baby in our group of friends. Do you know that in addition to your two actual aunts, you have eight other aunties (and then some) who love you very much? We were all wildly excited for your conception and anxiously anticipated meeting you.

The day of your delivery, I drove through back country roads to be with your parents and saw land that is wastefully beautiful. It is not fair, I thought, that all this beauty exists and you will never experience it.

That day was hard for everyone, but no one more than your mom and dad. I know your mommy writes to you a lot. I know she tells you how she's feeling about all of this. Every day presents some new challenge, some new track in her mind, I think, that washes the experience over her again. Your mom had hyperemesis during her pregnancy with you and she wrote to me today that it was not just the loss of you, her child, but also the loss of her life as she knew it, and the loss of an enjoyable pregnancy. Your mommy has felt loss in a way that is unique and deeply painful.

But here's what I want you to know, Scout...

Your mommy is creating a new version of her life, a beautiful one.

Your mommy is brave and fierce.

Your mommy is tender and soft.

Your mommy is opening herself up to change.

She is learning how to make pottery.

She is learning new sports.

She is writing.

Your mommy is helping other people who know her pain.

She is generous with her time, her prayers, and her thoughts.

She is pursuing the health of her body, of her heart, with tenacity.

Your mommy is bold and open.

She wants to share your story, not only to validate your existence, but to bring hope.

I think that is my favorite thing to see building in her, growing, gaining strength--

your mommy's hope.

It's starting out slowly. She has more hope for other women in her situation than for herself, I think. Fear is her biggest foe, but it will not best her. But isn't that somehow true of us all? Don't we fear the unknown of what lies ahead more than almost anything? I certainly do.

What must it be like for you, Scout, to be in the presence of our God, to be in a place where worry and pain are no more? All of us down here wonder.

I just wanted to tell you that I can't wait to meet you. I want you to know that your mommy and daddy are learning new things every single day because you lived inside her belly. I want you to know that you are deeply loved.

But you do know that, don't you? You live with Jesus. You know love even more than the rest of us can imagine. That's a happy place, Scout.

XOXO,

Auntie Hope


P.S. Tomorrow Tara is going to share her favorite resources for living and growing through these moments of grief, practically.