Letter to Lydia

Lydia Laurel Andersen

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Dearest Lydia,

I said goodbye to you yesterday and now am stuck in this place where it feels wrong for time to continue. How can I keep going through life without my firstborn daughter? Without my Lydia? You and I were going to have a great week of learning each other and nuzzling each other’s faces and trying on most of your wardrobe (Even the stuff I know would’ve been way to big!). There is so much I wanted to do with you. So much your dad and I wanted to show you and teach you about (like rebuilding engines). So much we wanted to learn because of you and be changed in turn by who God made you to be. So much left unsaid. You dad and I are overwhelmed with sadness.

We wonder what your personality would be like. Your dad wonders if you would laugh or cry if you licked your ice cream off the cone and it fell to the ground. If you cried, it would’ve broken his heart and he would buy you two more – one for each hand. If you laughed, he would’ve laughed with you, and then bought you two more – one for each hand. We wonder if you would have your mommy’s voice or your daddy’s smarts. We wonder if you’d prefer to be in the garage with your dad or on the computer designing something with mom. There are so many things we still wonder...

It wasn’t easy carrying you for 9 months sweet pea. My joints fought me at every bend, but I knew what a treasure awaited me on the other side. You were coming! We would get to meet this gift of life! With every wiggle inside me, I was filled with the anticipation of hugging those restless feet and pumping hands. Thrilled to greet you and get to know you someday. Others saw the limping and the outward displays of pain and I could tell them truthfully that it would all be worth it because you were coming. You were coming….

As I think about this now, It is still true. You were worth all the physical pain I endured; you were worth every doctors visit, every unexpected pain and restless night – every worry your dad had about my symptoms.

You are still worth it.

I ache to have you with me still, but I know you are being treasured by a loving God who knows you, the one who knit you together in my womb. And the best part is that we will be with you again! As I’ve waited 9 months in expectation of treasuring you, I will continue to wait with even greater expectation to know you in a place where there is no more death, tears or sorrow. I get to know you in THAT place….and your father and I will cling to that hope every day from here until then. Jesus swept you away from this life into his arms, and allowed us to have you - even for just a few hours - to treasure and love you just a fraction of what He does.

You are a gift to your dad and me. Every day of our lives we will miss you, we will think about you and we will love you. Memories of your sweet red hair, perfect nose, huge/chubby cheeks, dimpled chin, broad shoulders and the sound of your cries will forever capture us. Though we only had about 40 hours together outside the womb, we know you and you know us. We will always treasure you – always want to sneak glances at the few pictures we have – always want to remember what you mean to us and the future we have together – a future that is not without hope. You are in God’s hands now, and that is a perfect place to be.

Thank you dearest Lydia for letting us love you for as long as we have. We love you sweet pea. We love you. And we will see you again.

Mommy and Daddy