Dear L and N,
It’s me, your mama. I’m that heart you’ve heard beating. That voice you’ve heard talking. And at times, those tears you’ve heard falling.
To say your pregnancy has been an emotional one would be an understatement. The fact we saw two pink lines so easily this time caught us a bit off guard. And from the moment we found out there were TWO of you…our world has been spinning. You hid from the heart monitor at 14 weeks. At 23 weeks we found out you were both boys! Around 26 weeks we received what seemed like impossible information; your brains hadn’t formed correctly. And by 29 weeks, the news was even worse.
The medical community has warned us that your lives will be full of challenges, and unfairly cut short.
I have tried my hardest to wrap my head around that, but I just can’t.
No ultrasound tech yet has finished their job without mentioning at least once that one or both of you is stubborn. And N, you surprised even the doctors by growing after signs were pointing to you starting to fail.
My vocabulary has grown to include words like Dandy Walker, Vermis, Corpus Callosum, and Lissencephaly. But my heart has grown too. As has my faith.
I cannot tell you for certain what this means for you. I cannot tell you if you will ever walk. Or eat independently. Or utter your first word. Or celebrate a first birthday.
I can tell you that your dad and I are here. Waiting for you. That we are proud of you both, and love you endlessly. And that we will do everything in our power to help you fight, for as long as you tell us that is what you want.
I also want to promise you one important thing. No matter the length of your lives. Whether you are with us for hours, days, weeks, months, or years…I promise to make your time here on Earth not about death, but about life. Not about loss, but about love. Not about fear, but about hope.
May the Lord bless you and keep you.
May he make his face shine on you and be gracious to you.
May he turn his face toward you and give you peace.
We’ll see you soon.