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How To Survive Baby Loss



                        never had, or ever will with Garren. But, unlike those
                        other fathers, I’m not angry at God. I’m not angry at
                         anyone about Garren dying. I know that God has a
                       plan in Garren’s death, and that it is not a punishment
                        for me or Andrea that he died. Pain is no measure of
                         God’s faithfulness. But, just because I’m not angry
                        doesn’t mean I’m not deeply hurting inside. I’m hurt-
                         ing, I just don’t know how to say it out loud. Son, I
                        dreamed of life with you, and now I live days without you.
                       I waited 9 months for life to change, and it did! Just not the
                       way I wanted. I know you’re in heaven and Jesus is looking
                       after you. You have the best Heavenly Father! I’m so thank-
                        ful for that. But your daddy just misses you tonight. I love
                        you Garren! I will always love you. I hope you are sleeping
                         well in the arms of Jesus. Let’s hope I get some sleep too.


                   I love you to the moon and all the way back down to the
                        dirt.”—Jay, father of Heavenly Garren James


                  After some time went by, Garren’s mother wrote this entry:

                  My Precious Garren,

                  For two years I’ve known about you. Every day for two years, I
               have thought about you. Every day for two years I have longed to see
               you - alive and healthy. First, an eager longing, waiting for your grand
               arrival into the world. In a millisecond that eager longing changed.
               Drastically. The longing became a heart-wrenching ache. The ache is
               still here. The longing is still here. I long to hold you. I long to kiss
               you. I long to hear your voice - the one that would giggle, or squeal, or
               scream, or cry. The little-boy voice that might be jabbering, practicing,
               and learning new words every day. I long to give you butterfly kisses
               and imagine butterfly kisses from you as you grow up - with those
               long eyelashes, just like Daddy’s. I long to see the sparkle in your
               blue eyes - those eyes that I will see for the first time on the day I get
               to heaven. I long to tickle your toes - those long toes, just like mine.
               I long to chase you around a playground and take walks with you in
               the stroller. I long to see you sitting at the dinner table with us, trying
               new and exciting foods for the first time and even making a mess of it



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