Dear Me 20 Years Ago,
I can see her face. She’s just a baby herself. She didn’t know hard yet. She didn’t know how dark days could get, how lonely a room full of people could feel, how ravaging guilt could be, or how hard she would soon fight for joy. She delivered her own baby fast, not knowing His fast entrance would represent his fast exit. The nurse said, “This is so easy for you, you should have ten.” That nurse had no idea how hard it would be to be the mother of this sweet, little boy. It’s hard to imagine that here I am, twenty years from the day no parent ever wants to have to face. I remember pondering so many times what it would be like twenty years later. I don’t know why twenty. I think it just seemed so far off and like some marker in time. I think I felt like in twenty years, surely I would no longer be shattered and would have learned to breathe again. When I think of that baby that I was, losing my baby, I wish I could go back and tell her a few things. This is perhaps some of what I
