Dear Oscar and Edgar,
As I watch you play this morning just a few feet from where I sit, I am struck–as I so often am–by your sweetness, your beauty, and your joy. And as your mother, I want so much to protect you, to shield you–literally and figuratively– from life’s obstacles, life’s pain, from grief. That comes from my love for you–visceral, primal, all-encompassing parental love for you.
But I know that I can’t. Though this life offers to us many opportunities for great joy and happiness, there is also great suffering. And ultimately one the best gifts I can give to you is to show you how to handle life’s losses with heart, with grace, and ultimately with acceptance.
This was quite a week for our family. On Wednesday and Thursday, we thought that you were about to become big brothers to a beautiful baby boy. And on Friday everything changed. We may never know what caused such a change of heart, but I do have faith that one day we will understand why this happened. When I look at you both, I see my history–the challenges and obstacles that led me to your father and then to you. No matter how senseless things may have seemed at the time, when I look at you I know unequivocally why things happened the way they did–it was part of my journey to you.
When we told you the news yesterday you reacted in such a way that reminded me what is best about our family: that we are here for each other. You were able to express your feelings and ask your questions. There is security and love here that frees us and gives us space to express ourselves honestly and without fear.
There are very few promises one can make and even fewer guarantees, but I can promise you this: You are loved, you are treasured, you are ours and we are yours. We are traveling this road together, and thank goodness for that.
With all my love,