Today, a little something I wrote in a journal back in March. Just a word about this entry, and others like it, is that they often take the form of a letter to London.
March 8, 2014Held London during Kate’s first baby shower.
Leaving the NICU, walking out into a beautiful sunny day, driving away with the sunroof open, sort of crying. Just hits me how I have to leave you behind every day. You are stuck inside and your world is so incredibly small right now. I can’t grasp how much I love you. I can’t put it into words. It’s a depth of feeling that transcends any prior experience. When I am able to grasp just how much I love you, it lasts a second, in which I am overwhelmed, in awe of creation and what God has blessed us with.
There is something uniquely peaceful about spending time with you alone. You were so good today, satting high and just zonked out on me.
You know, at times throughout this experience I have wondered why we are going through this. Is it something God planned? And I’ve been cynical at times, doubting that saying a prayer would help lasix work as best as it can. At times I am uncertain about the answers, but I am certain of one thing: your arrival has awakened in me a love I never knew existed. It has finally put into perspective how strong God’s love for us is. He looks upon us as newborns, perfect, innocent, like we can do no wrong.
You’ve brought me closer to God, into pure love, than I have ever been. The path forward is not without worry, but it is clear. Clear in that my life up until your birth has shown me exactly how to love you and your mom through all this. I didn’t know I had it in me. I didn’t know if I could. If someone had asked me how to proceed, I would have said I don’t know. Now you’re here and, at last, I have some answers.