For some reason I know you were going to be a boy. Call it mother's intuition. Maybe that's why we affectionately called you Roscoe (just a pet name, you understand). I don't know why you had to leave so early. I don't blame you. I would love to see Jesus too. Imagine Him being the first person I ever saw! How merciful and fantastic that would be. But why even come in the first place and make us attached to you? I don't understand that. I feel tired from thinking about it. I lose my appetite when I see the numbers on the calendar, marking each new week of your growth inside me. I should have written them in pencil.
I am still cramping, trying to heal and physically move on. My mind is trying to get over everything that I learned about your development... up til now. I'm glad that I saw you inside of me. I needed that little glimpse, even though you had already left. I have cried a lot. I needed to cry. I talk about you a lot to many people. It's only right to talk about my baby.
Your daddy is a fantastic person. I wish you could have have met him. He would have made you into a mechanic, fruit tree-grafting, builder, and jack of all trades. You would have rolled your eyes at all of his dumb jokes and grinned as he tried to start the campfire with nothing but the sparks flying off the car battery. But I guess your not really missing much, really. We love you but you are perfect and whole as you are now. Jesus is taking you to the park and your riding that one crazy roller coaster that I am just sure is up there somewhere.
I miss you and will continue to miss you. I don't fondly pat my tummy anymore. But don't worry about me little man, you will have siblings some day for mommy to feed organic veggies and flaxseed to. You will roll your eyes at my healthy concoctions and thank God you can eat whatever you want while your brothers and sisters suffer down here with mom, he he. There is hope, I can feel it. There is disappointment too. There is love, from us to you, and there is faith; that somehow this will make us whole, better. Love,