To my first born

Dear Langston,

Oh little one, we miss you. That seems like a weird place to start but it is the emotion that sums it up the best. Although we never met, I feel like I know you. As soon as I saw those two lines telling me I was pregnant, I knew you. And I began to plan. I didn’t think you would be a boy. Daddy has always said that he would have all girls as payback for all the hearts that he broke in college so I just assumed that you would be a girl. I allowed myself to dream. You had so many nicknames. KitKat, Baby Bunny, Baby Spot, Baby Spider Monkey and we used them interchangeably. You made me so nauseous. I remember that I watched what I ate religiously because you made it clear early that if you didn’t’ like a certain food, you would make sure I knew it right away. Although I didn’t like constantly feeling like I was running to the bathroom, in my mind, I loved that you were opinionated and in that I recognized myself.

We started thinking about names for you and I had so many boy names and a few girl names. Langston stuck out to me. It was a strong name. I was already dreaming of the kind of man I wanted you to grow to be. I wanted you to be a thinker and a dreamer. I wanted you to be a strong independent man  of God who valued his family and friends and was a hard worker. I knew you would be a mama’s boy and I looked forward to spoiling you. I knew you would have your Daddy’s patience because you surely wouldn’t get it from me. I was so ready to see the way that he loved you because of how he loved me and good he is with kids.When you were born, I saw him in you even as little as you were and my heart broke again as I recognized that you were the perfect realization of our love for each other.  

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that we didn’t’ get any of our dreams together. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you with me longer. I’m sorry that I didn’t cherish every day more that we had together. I’m sorry that I won’t ever get to hear you cry or hear you call me Mommy. I tell myself that it is all for a purpose and that you won’t ever feel grief, or pain or have to be sad; that you won’t have to know the harsh realities of being a black man in America…..but the selfish part of me still wants you here. I do thank God for choosing us to be your parents and even though you could not stay, I want you to know that you were so wanted my sweet boy. We longed for you and we worked so hard for you.  I love you for making us Mommy and Daddy. You gave us those titles and we wouldn’t have them without you. Thank you for representing my happiness. You will always be my ‘happy’ pregnancy. You represent a time before I thought about babies being born at 13 weeks and being so little that they could not survive. I am going to see you one day. One day an angel will bring you to me and I know that I will instantly recognize you because that’s what happens when you are a mother, even if you haven’t seen your child for a period of time,  you recognize them as a part of you that has been missing. I am so happy that I got the chance to know you. I love you so much.

 

Love,

Mommy.

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Nighttime is the worst 

I want to sleep but I can’t. 

I remember laying here every night  rubbing my belly and once Hubbins drifted off, I would talk to my little one. I would tell him how much he meant to us. I would tell him what kind of day I had. I would tell him how excited we were to meet him. I would tell him that I wished he was growing strong.
 I  would pray. I would pray over his mind and his eyes and his hands and his feet. Hubbins suspected he was a boy; I thought he would be a girl so I would alternate my prayers. 

I would pray that my daughter would grow up to be a graceful woman of God. I would pray she wouldn’t inherit my quick sometimes sharp tongue. I prayed that she knew she was beautiful and she would hold her head up high confident in what she could do. I prayed she would know her value. I prayed that she would see all the love she needed in her Daddy’s eyes and realize that there was no acceptance from any other man that mattered because her daddy loved her enough. 

I would pray for my son. I would pray that he have a gentle spirit and grow to be a strong man of God. I prayed he would inherit his fathers patience and long suffering. I prayed that he would be safe. I prayed that as a young black man he would understand his power and the importance of his voice for right and for the things of God. I prayed that I would know how to raise him in a world that everyday told him he wasn’t good enough; wasn’t smart enough; wasn’t talented enough. 

I asked God for knowledge on how to raise this child for Him. I prayed that in my feebleness I would be strong enough to raise a child who grew to love Jesus and would seek Him each day.

Now I don’t know  what to pray for…

Due Date

My due date was tomorrow. I have so many emotions but they all just come out as tears. I’m broken. I wanted my son. He was my perfect boy. When the doctor handed him to us I was amazed at how  even with him being that tiny I could see that he had his Daddy’s nose and my cheeks.  I’m shocked I made it to this date. There were days in the time after we lost him that  I considered ending it all because the pain was too much. I feel lonely. Tomorrow, life will go on and besides my husband and I, no one will acknowledge that he was supposed to be here. I can’t explain what it feels like to miss someone that you never really knew. Because that is the truth. I don’t know who my son would have been. And yet, I’m thankful. I’m thankful that God chose me to be his mother for the 14 weeks that he called my body His home. 

I know that one day I will see my boy. One day the angels will present Langston to us and I will recognize him without hesitation…because although we never met, he is my son and I will always be his mother.