Gabriel, my sweet love,
Yesterday we talked about this, you and I. I told you of all the things that would happen if you stay with us, and all of the things that I would have hoped for if you don't get to.
I told you how happy we would be when we get to see you crawl for the very first time. When we see you get to walk (no matter how long it takes). When you sit up alone. When you go to preschool with your first backpack. How Mommy would be and is always going to be so proud of you. I talked to you about how Judah would be your best friend, even when you fought, and how brothers have a relationship that is so special. I talked to you about how Judah might get married and have you as his best man... and that you might get married too... I talked to you about how you would have a little brother or sister who also had downs syndrome someday when Mommy and Daddy adopted them... and they would look like you.
There are so many moments that I want you here for, Gabriel. So many sweet things about you that bless me. Yes, you are going to be a challenge, even though you are sweet to your very core, but you are going to be a blessing to me... every moment of my life. Whether I hold you in my heart or in my arms.
I feel so lucky that it was us. That Daddy and I got to have you.
I feel so lucky looking at you now, knowing that you should be dead but that you are here, in my arms, smiling and cooing.
Fear is a silly thing- but I do feel it when I hold you in my arms. Tonight, it's the fear that I won't get to see your smiles again. The fear that I won't get to hold you and let you pull out fistfuls of my hair just because it makes you make that 'determined' face that makes me laugh.
Gabriel, you have so much to live for- so I know you will fight. But if I never see you on Earth again...
You changed our lives forever.
You taught me, you taught Daddy the true meaning of love. In 7 months.. you changed our entire lives.
You gave us a new perspective- the perspective of hope, of fighting, and of course, the perspective of perfection in imperfections.
You put a light in my heart, a soft light, that I can feel glowing every time I see someone with a difficulty or a disability. Every time I see someone who is a little slower, or a little less than societies definition of 'perfect', my heart melts and I smile one of those 'Mommy' smiles.
Gabe... I can never ever thank God enough for the past 7 months. For the fear, the hope, the pain, the gain. I wouldn't change what we did- not for anything.
If I never hold you in my arms again after this, the impact that was made on our lives... just by you existing... I cannot describe the beauty you brought into our lives.
Watching Judah love you- giving 'his baby' kisses and holding you and just wanting to be around you... Watching Grandpa turn into a tub of mushiness over you.. Watching everyone who meets you and feels you in their arms fall completely in love with your 'perfection'..
I wish everyone in the world could meet you and hold you and finally see Downs Syndrome for what it is. Perfection- in it's own definition.
Innocence, love, joy. That's what I think of when I see you, sweet boy.
Hope for the world we live in- true love- you hold that in your very fibers. I think when God created you he created another angel to show us what our planet needs.
Gabriel, I hope to hold you in my arms for as long as I can. To kiss those ticklish cheeks... and I have hope that I will.
But if I don't get you much longer...
I hope heaven sends this message to you.