Dear Scout: A Letter to Our First Child

(Dear friends, I've been writing this is my head and heart for a year now. I've been a coward about sharing Scout with you until now, but I hope I can bring some encouragement to others who have experienced a similar situation. I'm very proud to share our first child with you all. --Bonnie)

Dear Scout,

I miss you.

It's been almost a year since you were here, then gone so quickly. I remember when you were a suspicion growing in my mind and heart, one that was I was afraid to think about any more and dismissed more than once as a product of my overactive imagination.

I miss you, the little soul I carried with me for a few brief precious moments. The little soul we weren't sure existed until we realized we had lost you.

The days that followed were awful, bewildering, and unreal for us. I thought I was losing my mind when I kept checking the  backseat of my car for you. I wandered the house feeling like I had misplaced something precious, continuously wondering why I felt so aimless.  The house was too quiet, the rooms too empty, and I went about my days with a robotic mentality. Losing you was impossible to talk about, and with all the uncertainty and confusion we simply let our pain become an undercurrent to a busy schedule. My best friend did the best thing she could for me, gently confirming that I wasn't crazy and giving me permission to hurt over you. She walked with me. She still does that, even a year later.

She misses you.

There are no rules with grief, and I foolishly thought that I could just deal with it and move on. Underneath I was hurting, confused, and more than a little angry. My anger simmered underneath the surface until God lovingly brought me face to face with the bitterness I was letting root into my soul. Comfort and healing came in the strangest, most wonderful ways. In an effort to maintain normality, I continued with my plans to chaperone a student camp for a week in the mountains of West Virginia. I had big plans that week, Scout. I was there to do my duty as a chaperone and soak up some fun with the students to distract me from the ache of missing you. Only two people knew about you Scout, but by the end of the week I shared you with the whole group of teenagers. I never planned to, (and honestly wasn't sure I would ever really tell anyone) but God made it very clear to me that I had to tell my brothers and sisters why I was so angry. I had to confess to them the sin that had taken root in my heart and caused me to sin against them in my anger.

I told them about you and they wept.

They wept for you Scout.

I looked into the eyes of young men and women, 12 year olds and 18 year olds and all the ages inbetween and I saw deep sorrow and compassion.

They miss you too!

Christmas was hard without you. It was next to impossible to talk about you, though we shared you quietly. I can't put into words how much you are loved by your real Aunties, Uncles, and Grandparents. They are all so different, so many personalties and gifts, so many stories to tell and things to teach you. You would have been an amazing mix of Horton and Carrigan. Oh how they would have spoiled you and loved you and stuffed you full of all sorts of treats. They don't live close to us, (except one) but I imagine they would make up for it with phone calls and video chats and demanding lots of photos of you.

They miss you too, maybe even more since they are far away.

It was hard not to dream, plan, and wonder. In my imagination you are a little girl, though I love boys just as well. You would have been a daddy's girl, no doubt, drawn to his quiet ways and his open invitation for snuggles. I am sure of one thing, and that is that you would have had no choice but to have thick, bushy, wavy hair like your Mom 

and Dad.

Crazy hair is kind of a thing around here.

And then there is Lucy. It seems silly to love a little dog so much, but she is a wonderful animal. She stayed with me when we lost you, knowing in her little uncanny way that her Mommy was in pain. Lucy always knows, and I can imagine that I would have found her snuggled in your bed each night. God made her for a specific purpose and she fulfills that purpose so beautifully.

We waited a long time to give you a name. It felt too real and raw to name you, but it also felt wrong not to acknowledge you as a part of our family. We picked the name Scout from one of my favorite novels, To Kill a Mockingbird.  Scout is a complex character for a little girl, she is a picture of innocence-yet always says what she thinks and feels. She loves to read and thirsts for knowledge. We have a funny little inside joke that we will name all our kids and pets after literary characters, and Scout just seemed to fit. We made you a Christmas ornament to hang on the tree every year. It's nothing elaborate, just a cute little wooden owl given to me on that trip to camp by a couple of my sweet girls. It was such a healing thing to do for both of us, making that for you and seeing it on the tree every day. I cried when we packed it away, feeling like I was turning my back on you and forgetting you.

That would be impossible dear, because I think about you every single day.

It was hard not to calculate the days, weeks, and months. Dear friends gave birth to babies who would have been your playmates, maybe even your best friends. I rejoiced with them, because losing you taught me that I'm not the only person on this earth. It ached though, to attend baby showers and get text messages and watch them grow round with their little ones, thinking that we could have all experienced it together. Mother's Day has come and gone, and I can imagine that there are other Moms and Dads out there missing their babies and who dreaded a holiday that reminds them of the little hole in their family.

So many people lose children like we lost you Scout, but that doesn't mean we miss you any less. In the eyes of the world you are nothing, not even big enough to consider. I reject that Scout, because I know you were lovingly, beautifully crafted by a God who loves and values you more than I will ever be able to understand. He had a different plan for you than I did. I can ask "why" all day long and never get an answer for why we didn't get to keep you.  It's useless to torture myself with "what ifs" so I remain with the truths that I do know.

I know you will never feel the pain of betrayal, or the poison of bitterness.

I know you will not be tainted by sin, or know grief.

I know you are living eternally with God, that He has provided a way to redeem this broken world, and that I have the hope of Him coming back to make it right.

I know that though I live in a world where littles ones perish, one day death will be no more and there will be only Life.

I know we will meet someday, and that brings a smile to my face.

These things are almost impossible for me to say in person. I've never been one to wear my heart on my sleeve or talk about my feelings very much, and honestly I still panic a bit when you are part of the conversation. I sense that is changing in me though.You changed me Scout, and for that I am forever grateful. It's amazing how God has used you. You, who only lived in this world for such a short time. I shy away from talking about you, finding it difficult to open up about something so personal, yet I lost count of how many times a door opened up to share about you. I have looked into the eyes of women young and old and seen the same pain as mine. You have brought hope and comfort to people who thought they were all alone in their grief. 

You made my heart grow at least 3 times bigger.

We lost you when we were about to step into the world of adoption and orphan care. It took us a few extra months, but here we are, getting ready to hopefully meet your future brothers and sisters. My heart needed to grow, so God used you to stretch and mold it into a heart ready and willing to open up to children who need a different kind of mom. We will tell them about you always and talk about you when we open up that little white box with your owl ornament in it. You are a part of our family always.

You are our first.

We miss you.

We love you always,

Love,

Mom and Dad