Thursday, December 30, 2010

Living on

It occurred to me yesterday that it's a week until Joshua's 3rd birthday. And three years on, I'm still getting emails from new encephalocele Mommies. On that note, please keep Cooper in your prayers. I'm blessed that I still receive emails like Halee's. It's emails like hers, and Marie's (Elijah Douglas' momma) that I wrote this blog in the first place. I wanted their google searches to over-turn a positive outcome story.

When I first began to research encephaloceles, I couldn't find stories. I wanted to know what other people had done, how they felt, and what their child was like. But I found next to nothing. I wanted people to read our story. I wanted people to know that even in the midst of tragedy, there was hope and that good could come from it.

I was laying in bed last night, thinking of Joshua. I remembered his little face. I remembered how his little eyes seemed to see - but they seemed to look straight through me. I remembered resting my lips on the top of his head. I could hold him like that for hours. I still have an odd obsession with resting my lips on babies heads. I think it's because I spent so long with Joshua like that. When I think about my favorite times with Joshua, that tops the list.

I would sit on our brown couch, look out the large patio door, and hold him up close to my heart. His 'cele rested on my right arm, his head in my right hand. His spindly little arms and legs somewhere in my lap.
Was there ever a skinnier boy?

I went to look back at blog photos, to see if I had any of me holding him that way. I guess I did it even more than I thought I did. It was definitely my favorite thing to do.

One loss, brings up another. My lost babies are always "there".


  1. And they ALWAYS will be. You will never forget them. Praise God there will be a reunion! Blessings to you sweet girl.

  2. I'm so sorry to read about the loss of Quattro :( It's lovely to see some picture of Joshua again, beautiful boy.

  3. I'm so sorry to read about your loss today. They are always with us. Always. And they change us because of who they were.