The Day We Met

by Dusti Bowling

  I cried, keeping my eyes on the hospital ceiling, not wanting to look. Or know. I felt something placed on my chest as Dr. Rhoades said, “Your son, Lenna.”

  I raised my lead-filled arms and let them fall around the tiny, still body of my son. He was so still. “Is he alive?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Dr. Rhoades said, putting a blanket over the two of us. “He doesn’t have long. He’s having trouble breathing.”

  I finally raised my head from the pillow. I tucked the blanket around the body of my baby, securing him in its snug embrace. I took a corner of my sheet and gently wiped his face, studying every detail of it, imprinting it in my memory forever.

  Some people may have first noticed the unusually small eyes or the sloping forehead. When they put their finger in his hand, they might have been shocked by the extra fingers and saddened by the lack of reflex. And when they kissed his mouth, they may have been disappointed with the cleft palate and that he would never be able to breastfeed.

  But he was the most beautiful, special thing in my entire life. He was perfect in every way because that was how God made him.

  “Hi,” I said to my son. “Hi Jeremiah.” The room was filled with the mixed sounds of Jeremiah’s small gasps for air and various sniffles and quiet whimpers. It was a peaceful, lovely sound.

  I looked up at my parents. “I want you to meet your grandbaby.”

  My dad had to hold my mom up as they moved closer to the baby. She placed her hand on his tiny head. “Jeremiah,” she said and leaned down to kiss his head. My dad wept as he did the same. Will and Heather also gave the baby a single kiss before backing away from the bed, giving me time with my child, time they knew to be finite.

  I kissed my son and placed my finger in his hand. With my other hand, I wrapped his small fingers around my own. “There,” I said. “That does feel nice.” I raised his tiny fingers to my mouth and kissed them. “I want you to know something,” I whispered to him, as though in secret. “I know that there will be other special days in my life… the day I get married. Maybe I’ll even have another baby. But I want you to know… I know this day is the most special day of my life.” I smiled at him, imagining him smiling back at me. “Because this is the day we met.”

  I stroked the soft peach fuzz on his head. “And it might not have ever happened. There were a hundred reasons why it might not have happened, and yet, here you are.” I smiled and kissed him again. “And I’m so grateful to have met you. I’m so thankful to God for allowing this to happen. No matter how hard it’s been or what I’ve had to go through, I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the whole world.”

  As I kissed him again and again, his tiny gasps became farther and farther apart. After a while, I didn’t hear any more. “Is he gone?” I asked Dr. Rhoades.

  She came over and put the stethoscope to his tiny chest. “No, but he’s very close.”

  I looked down at my son and kissed his beautiful face for the last time while he lived. “I’m ready now.”

  Chapter 23

  “Happy Birthday, Jeremiah.” I placed the purple sea horse I had bought what seemed like a lifetime ago in front of his simple gravestone. I ran my fingers over the words engraved in granite: Jeremiah, Son and Grandson. June 15, 2009.

  Just one date. And not even the whole date. Just seven minutes of it. But it was more than had been expected and more than I had hoped for.

  I looked at Will, standing beside me. “I can’t believe it’s been a year,” I said.

  He smiled and took my hand in his, running his soft fingers over mine. “It’s been a good year.”

  I nodded and looked back at the gravestone. “Do you want to say something?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled something out in an enclosed fist. “Yeah, I do.” He knelt down in front of the stone. “Happy Birthday, Jeremiah,” he said to the stone. “You know, I was there for your very first birthday. Not many people got the privilege of being there, but I was one of them.” He cleared his throat. “I wish you could have seen your mom. You would have been so proud of her. She was so brave for you.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder as the tears welled up in my eyes. The sinuous strands of the small weeping willow we had planted nearly a year ago blew around the stone, and it almost felt as though Jeremiah was answering Will, as though he spoke through the wind, saying Yes, I saw her.

  Will placed what he had been holding in his hand on top of the stone. It was the black spider ring. “I want you to know,” Will said, “that I wouldn’t give this to just anyone. It may look like an ugly spider ring, but it’s actually very special. You see, I gave this to your mom many years ago. I gave it to her because...” He took a deep breath. “Because I already knew I loved her.” He paused, scratching his head. “And I knew she already loved me, even though she didn’t know it yet.”

  I laughed softly and bit my lip. “You’ve always been such a know-it-all.”

  Will continued. “So I want you to have it because you brought her back to me. And besides,” he lowered his voice and leaned in close to the stone furtively, as though about to relay some top secret information, “I’m going to replace it one day with another one.”

  I bit down on my lip harder as tiny butterflies fluttered around my middle. Will stood back up. He put his arms firmly around my waist, and I leaned in to kiss him. His kisses were always soft and tender, and even though it wasn’t the first, it felt like it. There in the cemetery, standing in front of my son’s grave, in the arms of the boy I had always loved, just as he had said, I felt God’s presence—like he was standing right there with us. I could almost here him say, “See, Lenna. I was in control all along.”

  Will hugged me against him as I prayed a silent thank you to my Father—thank you for my son, thank you for my love, thank you for my peace, thank you for this moment I knew I would never forget.

  Will ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ll let you have some time alone,” he said, laying a soft kiss on my forehead.

  I nodded. I watched Will as he made his way back to the car through a maze of gravestones and flowers. I turned back to my own son’s gravestone. “I do love him, you know,” I said. “I just want you to know that.”

  I sat down in front of the stone. I gazed around quietly for a while, pulling out a few strands of grass. I closed my eyes to the feel of the warm sun on my face. “I have to go away,” I finally said. “I’m going to North Carolina for school. Will and I both are.” I opened my eyes again. “So I won’t be able to visit as often. But… I know it won’t matter because you’ll be with me anywhere I go.” I smiled to myself. “I always feel you with me. I had completely lost my way—my narrow path. But I found it again with your help. You were truly sent from God to call me back to him.

  “All that time I was pregnant, I kept feeling like I was being punished for something—like God was punishing me.” I shook my head. “Now I can truly see his love for me. I feel it every day, all day, in everything I do. I know he has big plans for my life. They may not necessarily be my plans, but I know they’ll be good.”

  I stood up and brushed the grass from my sundress. I placed my hand on the smooth granite one more time before turning away. As I made my way to Will through the cemetery, I felt an overwhelming sense of love, as though God’s arms were wrapped tightly around me, guiding me on my way. Leaving Jeremiah’s grave that day, on what would have been his one-year birthday, I knew that no matter what else might happen to me, whether I felt it was good or bad, no matter what challenges I might face, I had to trust it was what was right for me. I had to trust that God knew what he was doing much better than I. My son had shown me that.

 

 

 
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