There are really no words, but I have to say something

My dream of six children ended today. Grief really is the only word to use. The emptiness is surreal. The tiny people left this morning after three short weeks. I have felt sad before, but this, oh this is a whole different animal. I have to write so I never forget them.

I will miss so much.

To Baby Davydd:

I will miss the sight of your beautiful face looking up at me from the crib in the morning.

I will miss the adorable dimples that adorned your chubby cheeks.

I will miss the sound of your infectious laughter.

I will miss watching the delight in your face as you accomplished so much while you were here.

I will miss those big, bright, blue eyes that followed me when I would walk away from you.

I will miss the feel of your tiny fingers clasping mine as you drank your bottle and the warmth of your little body snuggling close to mine.

I will miss the smell of your baby fresh skin after the baths you loved so much.

I will miss the smiles that you brought to the faces of my children when they were with you.

I missed you before you already left.

To little Dayton:

I will miss the sound of your little feet pattering around the house.

I will miss the sight of your gorgeous blue eyes.

I will miss the sweetness of your little voice saying, "Hold me, hold me."

I will miss your constant requests to help me by saying, "Help you, help you?"

I will miss the hugs around the neck & the kisses you blew to me at the doorway each night.

I will miss how quickly you learned how to say prayers and your precious reminders to us if we forgot by yelling, "PRAYER."

I will miss the "I love you" that you said to me at bedtime your last night here.

I will miss the ornery giggling that spread through the house when you played with my children.

I already miss you.

It's 8:54 at night. I wonder if Dayton heard a prayer before bed tonight. I wonder if someone gave him a book to read when they tucked him into bed. And, I wonder...who is feeding the baby? Has someone coldly propped his bottle like all the times before or is someone snuggling him close while feeding him with his fingers tightly grasped around theirs.

Dear Lord, I know this is what you want us to do. I told Josh that we do NOT have to keep doing this if it is too painful. "No Mom, I want little kids in this house," he says. So dear Lord, send us more soon to help heal and soothe this pain. I keep thinking I hear the baby over the monitor and then stop and say to myself, "Oh, they left."