Bryan recently wrote a post to his own blog. He told me I could share it here. He loves his little bunny <3
It's been more than 2 years since I've posted here. Hopefully I'll find time to post more often in the coming weeks.
The biggest, well actually the smallest, reason for that (besides my
very busy schedule) is my firstborn son, Samuel Evan. He was born on
April 14th, 2012. He is the son RaeAnne and I had been wanting for a
long time, and he came as a welcome surprise in our lives. He was quite
active during pregnancy, and the ultrasound technicians often had a
difficult time getting a good picture. He waved at us on the first
ultrasound image. I knew right then I would never be the same as
before. I already knew that when RaeAnne told me the news, but that
really made it sink in. As he grew, we really got to know him as well
as we could. We talked and read and even sang to him each night. He
knew the sound of our voices and I'm told he would often move or kick
when he heard me.
He now lives in Heaven with Jesus. As the blocks with the letters of
his name say on the top of them, he "grew his wings" about 4 hours after
being born on a rainy, stormy Saturday night. We had prayed for his
healing for 5 months after learning of a condition that existed in his
abdomen that could not be corrected. We received his diagnosis from the
doctors at Mayo Clinic (Methodist) in Rochester, MN, and if there was
anything that could be done to fix the issue with his bladder, it would
have been done there by some of the best doctors in the world. But
after about a week of ultrasounds, amniotic procedures, and lab tests,
we were told there was nothing they could do. So we put his life in
God's hands and we prayed. But our request was not granted.
The last 6 months have been a blur of emotions stronger than any I have
ever experienced. Intense sadness and depression mixed with numbness
and shock and tears have combined to make most things in life seem
irrelevant. I'm walking through a darkness that I can't see the end of,
and I know there is light somewhere up in the distance. But there are
also plenty of obstacles in this darkness, and it's like being lost in a
deep, dark forest where you can't see the end in any direction but you
know it's there somewhere. That last part is paraphrased from a book
I'm reading called A Grace Disguised by Jerry Sittser, and I've found it
to be very true.
Our dreams of raising our precious baby boy are shattered, and we are
left with his things and his ashes while trying to pick up the pieces.
We don't know what to do, but somehow we make it through each day
without him. Grief is exhausting. Sometimes I wonder how I get out of
bed in the morning. But there is hope, since I know I will see him
again and someday get to share with him all the things that I couldn't
on this side of Heaven.
As I held my Samuel in the NICU after he died, I believe that God was
also holding him in His arms at that same time. As I laid his body down
and eventually walked out of that room, I knew I had left a piece of me
in that room that I could never get back.
I love you Samuel, and I always will. I will never stop missing you.
But I know that you are the lucky one. But I will never stop missing
you. Thank you for fighting to the end so that we had 8 very memorable
months with you.