Happy birthday, my little Braveheart. You would have been two years old today. I've been half dreading this day for some time now, while praying that God would give me the grace to celebrate your day with joy. And I'm trying- I really am. I'm struggling today, as I struggle every day, with the realization that my arms will never hold you again in this life.
It's still hard to accept that you're not coming home- That I am not your home anymore.
Are you having a good birthday? Do you even know what a special day it is? I try so hard to imagine what you're experiencing right now, but I just can't. My mind wasn't meant to comprehend something so perfectly complete.
I'm making the effort today- and it is a mighty effort- to be joyful and thankful for the time we were given, and not dwell on what we no longer have. It's harder than it sounds, to feel but not dwell.
But I am thankful, so very thankful, for the gift of you. Because of you, I have learned to believe in hope. I've learned that prayers are answered. I've learned to praise God for every day that brings me one day closer to you, while celebrating every little blessing along the way. As parents, we're supposed to teach our children, but all along you were the teacher. Thank you for teaching me what grace truly means.
You were always meant for bigger things than this ugly world, and I am eternally grateful for the short time you spent with us here. I thank God every day for loving me enough to let me be your Mommy.
I used to tell you all the time that I was proud of you. I am still so proud of you, my little man, and I always will be.
Before you, I believed in the possibility of miracles. Because of you, I know they're real.
Happy birthday, my sweet boy. You are so loved.