And with our angels...: The Littlest One...

Tomorrow it will be 2 months since Noah's heart stopped beating as I held him in my arms. It will be two months tomorrow morning that part of my heart left my body and went with my son. I miss him so terribly some days, the heart ache and sadness consume my every thought. If tears shed could bring him back, I think we've shed enough tears, I know he'd be back in our arms.

While Noah never was carried through the threshold and into our home, our house seems partially empty now. I keep dreaming about what it would have been like to bring him home in 6 weeks from now. Instead, it means six more weeks of sunsets, when I look into they sky, and pray for a sign from my baby that he is still with us.

As hard as some days are, it seems to be those days, when we are so graciously reminded of the love and care so many of you have shown for us. I know we'll never be able to repay you all, so I try to repeat over and over just how thankful we are. It is because of so many of you, we try to carry on, the best we know how, one foot in front of the other.

And while we appreciate every single act of kindness, every single prayer or thought sent to us, every card, every text and every loving message you share, there have been some acts that take my breath away. And one of those moments happened just recently in our house.... thanks in part to one of you.

I arrived home on Friday afternoon and went to the front door and found a package. It was an over-sized envelope addressed to me, with no return address. I walked inside, and stood at the front table and carefully opened the package. Inside was a book. I took it out and found this...

I looked back at the envelope to see who it was from. With no answer, I turned back to see what was inside. I opened the front cover....

I read it, and I cried. I knew it was from Noah.

As I read the words along the page, I reached with my hand for the chair, never letting my eyes leave the page. I sat down as tears streamed down my face.

I read each and every word, savoring the message my son had written to me. Strangely enough, I felt like I could hear his voice (or what I imagine his voice would have sounded like) in my head. My broken heart wept with happiness at the gift I was getting to experience.

When I got to this page, I sobbed. I carefully set the book down on the table and let my head fall into my hands. Our song, our special song, I sang to him over and over in the NICU. His heart beating with mine, at night, when I can't sleep, I often hear his heart beating... its the sounds I heard every morning and night as I laid in that hospital bed hooked up to the monitors. The pictures so perfectly drawn to capture exactly what I longed to experience. I sobbed, for once again, I had felt a rush of peace... the peace I have to believe that brings us healing.

When I had composed myself enough to wipe away the tears and see the pages, I turned again.

Looking at Dad's picture and reading about what Dad feels, I smiled. The book so clearly outlined how Dad feels but often times keeps inside. I'm so thankful Noah sits on his shoulder and reminds him "it's going to be okay."

And when I got to this page, I rubbed my finger over and over the littlest one sitting between his grandparents. It reminded me of the last few days in the NICU, how our parents sat directly across from bed 50 (Noah's bed) and kept a careful watch on him, and on us. I know Noah knew they were there in his final hours and I am sure he's with them as they walk this difficult sadness in losing a grandchild too.

When I got to the page about Gabriel, I knew he'd be so proud to see the page written about baseball... not because of his love of the sport, but because Gabriel was so excited to teach his brother how to play. Later that evening, when we all read the book for the first time, I saw Gabriel's eyes light up with happiness and then fill with water. The book spoke to his heart too... and how much love he had for his littlest brother... the one he never got to teach how to play, but the one who sits in his heart, watching from the best seat in the house.

Of all the pages in the book, the page about Noah's other brother Michael, spoke the most to me. Of all the sadness and heartache that losing him has caused, there has been one good thing that has come from it. Michael's level of affection and display of love has increased ten fold. Michael and I are probably the most alike in that we are stubborn and sometimes that means see don't see eye to eye.

In reading that Noah sneaks in-between Michael and my hugs, I couldn't contain my emotions again. Noah has brought Michael and my relationship closer together. And in his spontaneous and now regular hugs of love, we both find comfort and common ground in expressing it. The emotions flow wildly thinking Noah could be in the middle sharing in our expression of love to one another. And that makes me feel happiness.

While I don't know what wonderfully amazing person made this book for us, I am so so so deeply grateful. Reading about Isabelle from Noah's perspective made me wonder how the story knows us so well. Each and every night I turn out Isabelle's light and turn on an Elsa light that shines into the sky with a picture of Elsa and stars on the ceiling. As we pray she talks about Baby Noah and on the very night we received this book, as I tucked her into bed, she said, "Mommy, baby Noah misses you." Out of the blue, I had said nothing, in fact we hadn't even said our prayers. I was pulling up her covers as she said it, and when I heard her say it, I stopped, looked down at her and said, "What honey?" She repeated it, "Mommy, Baby Noah misses you." I choked back tears. Kissed her on the forehead, and tried to say, "Honey, I miss him too. Tell Baby Noah, Mommy loves him." She turned on her side, snuggled with her blanket and said, "I love you Mommy, goodnight."

Immediately I thought of this page in the book that had brought me so much peace.

And then, as I turned the final page of the book, still sitting in the chair, I read this...

And every night for the past 60 nights, my last thoughts before going to bed have been this... "Good night Noah. Mommy loves you forever. I hope to see you tomorrow."

And I cried. The tears, like the fresh stream at the bottom of a snow capped mountain... the flowed freely. All that had been bottled up inside for the weeks, the days, the hours and the minutes since he left us... my son had sent us a message. And he sent it through one of you.

As soon as Jarrett got home and the kids were all together, we sat down as a family and I read the book to them. Everyone gathered around and sat and stood quietly (everyone, even Isabelle) was glued to the pages of the book as I read to them the story of our littlest one. I tried my best to hold back my tears of happiness as I read it with enthusiasm and joy. On the final page, I read, "Good night my family. See you tomorrow. I love you forever. Noah." and I closed the book. I looked up at Dad who had tears rolling down his face and then at the kids whose eyes were as wide as they are on Christmas morning. Michael asked, "Mom, did Noah send us this book from Heaven?" And Gabriel said, "This is my favorite book ever. It makes my heart feel so happy." Michael, wrapped his arms around me, as he now regularly does, said nothing until he pulled away and said, "Mom, I love that Noah is hugging with us, when we hug." Isabelle jumped up and down saying "Baby Noah, Baby Noah, I love Baby Noah." and together all of us, rejoiced in the gift that a stranger, an angel here on earth, had given.

The kids love the book as much as Jarrett and I do.

Each and everyday, we have read "The Littlest One" countless times. It sits on the shelf in between our living room and kitchen and it is one of our favorite treasures. The kids have the book pretty much memorized by now but each time they read it, I see their eyes light up. This precious book has given me glimpses into what our lives could have been like if Noah would have stayed here. I can picture nights with all four kids sitting on the couch reading books together, and because of this book... in a way, we can still have that experience together.

Who ever out there created this masterpiece for us and for our family, I want you to know you've given us something wonderful, so great words cannot fully describe. You've given us peace in hearing Noah's perspective of how he sees us, how wonderful his life from above looking down seems to be... you've given us something that brings us all together, to share... to reflect on the love we lost, but also the love we still have.

It has been 60 days since we said goodbye to our littlest angel. Sixty days I wish more than anything I could go back to have a different ending. But we can't go back, we can only go forward, and the gift you've given us, helps us do just that. You've given us the story of us, written from the perspective our precious son. When Noah went to Heaven, I thought hearing his voice, listening to his story of his life, was one more thing I had seen perish in front of me. But thanks to you, it didn't. Thanks to you, we all get to hear Noah's story... written from his own point of view. The point of view from our littlest one. And boy is it one great story.

Thank you so much.