Meeting Eduardo's family.

On my due date, we decided to bring some flowers to Emmett's grave.  The whole day was kind of a blur of sadness; it was such a hard day for Ryan and I both.  We couldn't stop thinking or talking about our sweet baby, and how we had excitedly looked forward to March 15th through my whole pregnancy.  When we woke up, we went through the motions of getting ready for church, and I only had one minor breakdown before we left.  The rest of the day was pretty solemn, and it wasn't until we made our way to the cemetery to leave some flowers on Emmett's grave that I finally started to feel a release of sorts.

When we were pulling into the cemetery, I looked at Ryan and asked if he thought we would ever meet any of the families of the other babies buried near Emmett.  Literally as soon as I asked this, another family pulled in behind us and piled out of their car.  They had birthday balloons and an angel statuette, all of which they carefully arranged on their baby's grave, who is a few rows over from Emmett.  We each stayed quiet, trying to respect each other's grief.  I couldn't help but overhear them as they said happy birthday to their son and brother.  After awhile, the mom walked over to us.  She said, "We just want to say we're sorry for your loss."

I smiled and thanked her.  We chatted for a moment.  I asked her baby's name, and she said his name is Eduardo, and that he would've been two years old.  I got to tell her about Emmett, which was (as always) wonderful and terrible at the same time.  She cried with me when I told her it was his due date, but that he had been stillborn a few weeks prior.  We talked a few minutes more, and she said, "Well, I'm sure Eduardo is showing Emmett the ropes up in Heaven!" We both laughed and smiled, and for a moment I felt almost a sense of relief to be talking to someone who understands, someone who misses their baby in the same way, someone who understands how it feels to have been robbed of a lifetime with their child.

After they left, we stayed at Emmett's grave for a little while longer, just taking in the scenery, which included some overly friendly deer.  We stayed at the cemetery for about an hour, and it was beautiful - the sun stayed out, the sky was blue.  We didn't say much of anything, we just sat quietly at our baby's grave, silently (or rather, mostly silently) mourning our loss.

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Yesterday I was thinking about that sweet family that came to celebrate and mourn Eduardo.  I thought about how kind they were, and how hard it is to be separated from your child.  They understand, they feel the loss.  Although I take so much joy and comfort knowing Emmett (and Eduardo :) are in Heaven together, it is still so painful to not have them here on earth with us.  I still have moments when I feel anger and confusion.  I would so rather have my baby in my arms, although knowing he never knew pain or sorrow or sin is pretty awesome.  It's comforting knowing he is at peace, even while I am not.

I decided to look up the meaning of Eduardo, because I couldn't get it out of my mind.  When I looked at his name, I realized (duh) it's the Spanish version of the name Edward, which means guardian.  When I read that, I began to laugh, and feel so much joy.  I immediately had a picture in my mind of this tough little baby, looking out for my Emmett.  I laughed as I thought about how Emmett got to Heaven, and Eduardo was probably just like, "Hey, welcome to Heaven. Let me show ya around." (Just like how his mama said he would show him the ropes.)  I realize how crazy that might sound to some, but for me, it immediately brought me so much joy.  I can just see Emmett with his big (blue! They've got to be blue!) eyes, watching as Eduardo shows him around…and that is worth more than I can say.  The joy that those thoughts give me is worth more than I could ever truly express, especially during this season, when I have to cling to each moment of joy while I can.


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Jesus, please say hi to Eduardo for me, and give our baby boy a big ol' squeeze.  Remind him how much we love him, and how badly we can't wait to see him again.