This is quite possibly the hardest time of the day. Nothing good happens after 11 is what Daddy always said. It’s the truth. Between 11 and 6 is when I have the hardest time. It’s a time I dreamt about being between me and Will. He was a big boy and I just knew we would have lots of middle of the night feedings. Instead, I have lots of conversations with Coy and a whole lot of conversations with God. Sometimes it’s a simple prayer for Him to calm my heart and give me rest. Emotional, spiritual, and physical rest. Sometimes it’s me crying out to him for healing. A lot of times it’s me asking why and asking for Him to lead us in the unknown.
I had one sacred middle of the night with Will. Coy and I spent most of that night in the NICU with Will until the surgery began that morning around 4:45. We had visitors throughout the night and Coy would switch with them. But I was there the whole time. I sometimes wish I could get that night back. I wouldn’t worry about sitting down because I could feel my stitches starting to hurt. I wouldn’t worry whether I had taken my medicine. I wouldn’t worry about anything except that this was my first and last night with Will.
I told him so much that night. I talked to him like he was a baby. I also told him how much I had dreamed for him. About how much fun we would have. I told him just everything I could think of. And then when I couldn’t think of anything I would tell him just how much I love him. I know he knew that. If anything, I wish I could go back to those few minutes where it was me and Will. I would just sing to him, hold his hand, and tell him just how much I love him. I would give it all to kiss him one more time.
Joy in the Mourning 