I’ve always liked thinking about heaven. How it will look, what we’ll do, how awesome it will be to finally see Jesus. How cool it would be to see the wonderful, perfect place he’s created for us. For some reason, I’ve always imagined heaven to be exactly like the perfect Narnia described in The Last Battle. “Further up—and further in!”
But up until a three weeks ago, I wasn’t ready for it. Yeah, it was awesome to know I would be there at some point, but I had things I wanted to accomplish. I didn’t like thinking about the Rapture or the consistent end-times prophecies because…y’know, what if someone finally got it right? I wasn’t ready to go to heaven!
That changed April 9th.
I’ll write more about it when the grief isn’t so close to my heart. But on April 9th, Justin & I found out that the baby I’d carried for seventeen weeks had died. I delivered our baby boy, Matthew Isaiah, on April 11th at 5:15 pm.
There are so many things I could write about. Matthew was so tiny he almost fit in my hand–my small, octave-and-a-note-on-piano hand. But even so tiny, he was perfect. He was fully formed. We could even see his daddy in his big-knuckled fingers and his long toes. There was nothing wrong with him—he died because the cord wrapped around his neck, a horrible accident.
Matthew touched lives. The nurses and doctors who took care of me repeatedly told my parents and in-laws how “strong” I was and how “wonderful” of a couple Justin & I were. The funeral home director promised to hang an angel ornament with Matthew’s name on it on his Christmas tree. A lady at church was able to discuss all sorts of things with her two sons that they never would have let her bring up otherwise. Our entire church family rallied around us.
Matthew did so much more in his short life of seventeen weeks than I have done in my almost-23-years, but it still aches. And this is why I no longer say, “I’m not ready to go to heaven.”
I still believe God has a purpose for me on this earth. I have stories flooding from my fingertips that I hope can touch lives like my sweet baby boy. I want to live a long and content life with my husband. I want to have more kids, Matthew’s little brothers and sisters. There are things I still want to do, places I still want to explore.
But if God took me tomorrow, I’d be satisfied. I’m ready to see my Lord and Savior and sing his praises. And I’m ready to see a little boy with big brown eyes, curly black hair, and big-knuckled fingers like his daddy.
Can’t wait to see you, Matty. Give Jesus a big hug for me.
Mommy loves you.