Tomorrow I will bury my son.
My son Levi was born on Monday, June 28, 2010. His little heart beat strong for a long time after he came to us. I watched him draw in 3 or 4 small gasps of air, and I felt his tiny hand reach out for mine. It hurt to give birth. Though he was small, the pressure and pain was immense. I asked for no medications as I longed to have a physical feeling of my time with Levi. I started having mild contractions around noon on Monday, and just before midnight (11:46 to be exact) we met our son.
He is beautiful. Everything about him is just perfect. He is a tiny replica of his daddy. Absolutely the most adorable baby I've ever seen.
Tomorrow I will bury my son. His tiny body will lie next to his big brother Rowan, at the cemetery not too far from our home. It is no small thing to have buried my two boys in less than a year's time. Only 10 short months separate their beginning and ending.
I lay down, but rest eludes me. I close my eyes, but still they seem to produce tears. My heart is spent from sadness, and my body aches from the wailing. I am tired, too tired to carry this load. Too tired to cry out to Jesus, too tired to let my husband uphold me, just too tired.
And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten...And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.
Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. Uphold me, and I will be delivered.
The death of a baby is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions, affecting many, many people.
--De Frain, 1991