Dear Lord Voldemort,
Seven months ago, we lost you. You were a mere eight weeks along, just beginning to have little fingers, toes and eyelids. You were the size of a kidney bean. You were my kidney bean.
You would have joined us on the outside very soon (if not already). Long since, we would have known if you were a boy or a girl and more than likely we wouldn’t still be calling you Lord Voldemort. (Though I am pretty sure your Auntie Katelyn would have held on to the nickname and embarrassed you at high school graduation by yelling it out for all to hear.)
It is hard to let go, to know that I should be big and pregnant with swollen feet, feeling you kick and squirm inside, ready to come out and see the world. Imagining what names we would have come up with and the colors of your nursery. Would you have green eyes like me? Or brown like your daddy? Would you have the Haltom bump on your nose? A ruddy complexion? Long fingers and toes?
Would you be a book worm, an athlete or both? Would you play t-ball or soccer? Dance or play piano? And the most important question: would you like Carolina or Clemson?
One thing is for sure, you would have been smart. I imagine reading to you, praying with and for you, playing with you, creating with you. However, one thing that I don’t think about is having to change your diaper.
I think of you often, every time I see a pregnant soon-to-be mommy or a little baby, when I talk to my friends who are pregnant or have babies of their own. I usually smile at your memory, at the joy that you brought during those few weeks that we knew about you. Sometimes there is a bitterness that creeps up especially when I see or hear people complaining about motherhood or those who choose to not have their babies.
But you were here, even if you were only a whisper. You were real. You had a life, no matter how short and for that life I rejoice. Ultimately, you are His. For that life I am grateful. You gave us new titles, that of Mommy and Daddy. We will tell your brothers and sisters about you and one day we will see you.
“You should know…
That your days here changed everything.
You are missed here and will always be
But you left here. The greatest gift of all.
Cause our hearts ache for home…”
~Home by Nicol Sponberg