Letters to Heaven

Dear Jenna,

The times are few that I ever use this space to write a letter to Heaven.

But not a day goes by that you are not on my mind.

Today we talked about having another baby again. I’m scared to pieces. It won’t be happening for a few months (hopefully) but pregnancy is scary stuff.

I know all the things that can go wrong.

And they went terribly wrong with you.

Having no answers, and only assumptions leaves me feeling helpless.

And desperately leaning on the mercy of God who holds life and death in his hands.

The more time that goes by, the less all of this makes sense. I have a feeling it’s supposed to be the other way around.

May is getting closer and that ache that seemed to numb after Christmas passed has begun to open once again.

There’s this giant hole baby girl.

And only you could ever fill it.

I’ve pretty much given up on people IRL trying to understand this. I feel bad admitting this, but it’s made me a little hard on the inside.

I don’t want to stay that way.

It’s an overwhelming sadness that you get tired of trying to put into words. And then there comes a day you actually feel bad for the people who want to help you. Because you know they just can’t.

You get so used to living with it, you almost convince yourself that maybe you didn’t completely lose yourself when you lost. But after a good long stare in the mirror, the reflection doesn’t lie. You aren’t the same. Not by a long shot. You have different kinds of sadness, deeper love and maybe even different joys in life.

I don’t know how I got from the raw place of grief every single day, to today – where it almost feels like something I can pick up and let go of more easily. But it’s always there, just in a more tolerable way.

On a happier note, I am working with your brother to recognize you in pictures. He almost said your name the other day. He loves repeating words and watching me and your Dad beam with pride over his progress, so it won’t be long :)

Is Heaven filled with hints of spring? I hope so. Down here, the weather is beautiful. I can only imagine what your home must be like.

Most days before bedtime, I’ll wrap your brother in my arms and tell him thank you SOOO much for being MY Bubby!

Thank you for being MY Jenna, baby girl.

love to the moon & back,

your mama

17 thoughts on “Letters to Heaven

  1. How beautiful Fran. This really struck a chord with me. I talk to my boys every day and love picturing them in a Heaven filled with the flowers that have just started to bloom in our garden.

  2. Your post is so beautiful. It’s made me cry. We lost William in October and I think about him constantly…how I hope he knows how much I love him…how much I miss him and that I hope his Nan is looking after him. I haven’t been able to sit and talk to him at his grave or write anything to him just yet. It’s just too painful and I end up in tears. I hope there will come a time when the pain is not so incredibly raw that I will be able to write to him and tell him all I feel without it killing me inside. Until then, I hope he knows its not because I don’t love him, its because I love him so much it hurts xx

  3. Oh Fran….. You have made me cry. I miss you so much friend! I wish we could be so much closer or were rich and had private jets.. :'( *sigh* I went to Audrey’s garden around our house today it’s coming back to life now… Signs of life are filling me w hope but this empty hole inside eats me alive at times.. Miss you much my dear friend.. Xxxxxxxxxxx!!

  4. How absolutely beautiful. She will LOVE to read that as she gets older. You made me tear up a little bit..remembering that moment when my babe was in my belly. It’s the best feeling in the world!


    PS–And ALL Jenna’s are awesome so you’re good there :)

  5. Oh such a beautiful post. And I agree, the more time goes by, the less it makes sense. I always thought I would make sense of it as the years passed but I haven’t. If anything, I’m more confused than ever.
    So amazing that Bubby is nearly saying Jenna’s name. The first time Jessica said Georgina I was in floods. Such a special, heartbreaking moment. Remembering your beautiful daughter, Jenna.

  6. oh, I just love your words…
    I was numb for SO LONG, & even now I simply can’t talk to my baby girl. It’s been 10 years.
    You said pretty much what I would love to say.
    I so admire your way of weaving words, and your courage in posting them for the likes of me to read and savour. X

  7. This is beautiful. I pretty sure Jenna already knows how much you love her. Just think one day you will see her again. You are in my prayers, sweet friend.

  8. You saying,”It’s an overwhelming sadness that you get tired of trying to put into words. And then there comes a day you actually feel bad for the people who want to help you. Because you know they just can’t.”, is so very true…I really dont think I’ll ever get past being slightly irritated when people offer to “help”. I of course dont show that Im irritated, but as you said, they just cant.

  9. This was so beautifully written, and as is so often true, I echo your words in my own heart. It is that time of year again…Hugs to you!

  10. So beautiful. I could never understand your pain but I grieve with you anyway. Praying that God would give you courage and strength for another pregnancy, in his time. You are so brave.

  11. Fran, May God Bless You. Your writing is becoming more beautiful all the time. It clearly speaks your grief, yet shows growth as well. You are so brave and courageous to share beautiful Jenna with us by inviting us into your heart <3.

  12. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
    Courage to change the things I can
    And the wisdom to know the difference.

    Courage is tough to come by; serenity and peace even harder. Courage means doing what you feel you must despite the fear. And there was plenty of fear for me during my pregnancies after my son died.

    Someday, if you’re lucky, serenity and a kind of peace do come. I will miss my son for the rest of my life. But I have two beautiful girls now, and they give my life joy. I’m not sure if peace has completely come for me, but I can see the edge of it. I’ve accepted that things are the way they are, and there isn’t really an explanation for why a much-loved baby dies. The love you feel for Jenna will never go away, but I can say that the pain of losing my son has slowly dissipated.

    May peace and happiness come to you.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *