Monday, July 26, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Dedicated to her life
In honor of the 39 hours of life we had with our daughter Lydia, this blog is dedicated by her parents to remember and cherish her.
Friday, July 23, 2010
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
From Marmee Nees
My dear sweet Lydia, while it is still July, 2010
How I loved holding you; How your Pop did too. We so wanted to do that longer, to see your eyes open again, to hear your cry. But we are eternally grateful to your God, our God who let us hold you while your skin was still warm and your sweet cheeks rosey. It is enough for now, “dayenu”.
You so looked like your Mom when she was newborn. You had your aunt Brandi’s hair, and your grandma Loshi’s round nose, and you had a dimple on your chin that none of us recognized -it must have been a special gift from God’s own perfect design. Oh, how my heart aches to know you more. This is what beauty has always done- made my heart ache. But this time there is a real person attached to the abstract ache and it hurts hard. This is the thing I cannot shake, and do not want to shake: the weightiness of it all. Your weight in my arms was so solid, so sure. The weight of a soul is like this: tangible with gravity, reality with a distant assurance, with a severe longing I cannot put to words.
And you were brave, just like your Mom, and you stayed awake fighting to be alert just like your Dad, even at the sound of your Dad as he talked to you. There was a communion there between you and your Mom and Dad that some people don’t get to know even after decades of life lived side by side. I am so thankful I got to sing to you some precious songs: over and over in those sweet early morning hours. You will know my voice too then when we can sing them together in that great day coming. And we will know things - “things into which the angels long to look”.
Your sweet Mom, our Betsy…oh how her arms ache for you. Since she was a little girl herself she loved to pick up her dolly “and enjoy her”. I think she has been longing for you for a very, very long time, since before you were even created you were on her mind. I never saw a young girl enjoy her pregnancy more, even through all the particular pain. Betsy radiated for you and became a Mom with you. How valiant she was!
You can know sweet Lydia, that your Dad will take very good care of your Mom now in all this sadness of missing you and waiting for you. We have seen it with our own eyes how he is loving on your Mom, attentive to your Mom. So, if you are at all like your Mom in this way, with a heart of mercy, know that she is already being comforted, even as Jesus already told us when He was here on this hard earth: “blessed are those who weep now, for (one day) you (together) will laugh” Luke 6:21b
I am waiting for that day too, with much, much love, from your Marmee,
Ps. Today I am going to have a charm made for my grandmother bracelet, and this way all your cousins, when they look at each charm will remember you and the confidence we have of seeing you again, made whole.
How I loved holding you; How your Pop did too. We so wanted to do that longer, to see your eyes open again, to hear your cry. But we are eternally grateful to your God, our God who let us hold you while your skin was still warm and your sweet cheeks rosey. It is enough for now, “dayenu”.
You so looked like your Mom when she was newborn. You had your aunt Brandi’s hair, and your grandma Loshi’s round nose, and you had a dimple on your chin that none of us recognized -it must have been a special gift from God’s own perfect design. Oh, how my heart aches to know you more. This is what beauty has always done- made my heart ache. But this time there is a real person attached to the abstract ache and it hurts hard. This is the thing I cannot shake, and do not want to shake: the weightiness of it all. Your weight in my arms was so solid, so sure. The weight of a soul is like this: tangible with gravity, reality with a distant assurance, with a severe longing I cannot put to words.
And you were brave, just like your Mom, and you stayed awake fighting to be alert just like your Dad, even at the sound of your Dad as he talked to you. There was a communion there between you and your Mom and Dad that some people don’t get to know even after decades of life lived side by side. I am so thankful I got to sing to you some precious songs: over and over in those sweet early morning hours. You will know my voice too then when we can sing them together in that great day coming. And we will know things - “things into which the angels long to look”.
Your sweet Mom, our Betsy…oh how her arms ache for you. Since she was a little girl herself she loved to pick up her dolly “and enjoy her”. I think she has been longing for you for a very, very long time, since before you were even created you were on her mind. I never saw a young girl enjoy her pregnancy more, even through all the particular pain. Betsy radiated for you and became a Mom with you. How valiant she was!
You can know sweet Lydia, that your Dad will take very good care of your Mom now in all this sadness of missing you and waiting for you. We have seen it with our own eyes how he is loving on your Mom, attentive to your Mom. So, if you are at all like your Mom in this way, with a heart of mercy, know that she is already being comforted, even as Jesus already told us when He was here on this hard earth: “blessed are those who weep now, for (one day) you (together) will laugh” Luke 6:21b
I am waiting for that day too, with much, much love, from your Marmee,
Ps. Today I am going to have a charm made for my grandmother bracelet, and this way all your cousins, when they look at each charm will remember you and the confidence we have of seeing you again, made whole.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)