My wife and I have been blessed by God with nearly 23 wonderful years of marriage. That's not to say that the road has always been easy, because Libby and I have faced our share of trials and hardships. But I wouldn't trade these years with her for anything in the world. Yet there is one matter that I can't seem to fully accept; a matter with which I have never completely found peace.
You see, I am 50 years old and Libby is 45, and we are without children. Libby was pregnant on three occasions, but we had two miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy which required emergency surgery. The entopic was in 2003, and the recovery was long and painful. We had thought for sure that this was going-to be the 'one' … finally.
As a way to help myself heal, in August of 2006 I wrote the following essay I titled," A Letter to My Children." Perhaps some of you still have an empty space in your heart for children that did not survive to birth. My prayer is that this is some comfort.
A Letter to My Children, by Phil Headley
My Dear Children,
To Jossilyn Elizabeth, Shelby Grace, and Jackson Marshall; my beloved children who never got to taste life on this earth. Who never felt the warmth and love of your mother's breast. Who never got to walk hand in hand with your daddy down a white sand beach. I miss you, and my heart still grieves for you.
Jossilyn, our first, named after your grandpa and your beautiful mother. You were to be a special gift from God, a sweet girl with your mother's smile and innocence. You would be a princess, a cheerleader, an encourager; passionate like your daddy, and compassionate like your mama.
You would love Jesus with all your heart, and you'd love to tell his story. Destined to be a nurse or a missionary or both, you would bring tears to my eyes as I walked you down the aisle to wed the man God had prepared for you. You'd be the first to make me a granddad Oh dear Jossilyn, I miss you. Why did you leave so soon?
Then came Shelby, by the Grace of God. Sometimes I would call you Gracie, with brown eyes that would glow every time you had a ball in your hands, our Tomboy" No ribbons and curls for you, but shooting hoops would do just fine. You wouldn't cry over a scraped knee, but losing a ballgame would break your heart.
You were to be Daddy's girl as we shared the mutual passion of sports. Like me you too would become a coach in time, with a very competitive drive. You, would put your whole heart into everything you set out to do. You would even attack your faith with the energy of the Apostle Peter. You would coach and you would be good at it. Your players would be inspired by the fire in your eyes and the love in your heart. You would marry another coach, with whom you would live happily and competitively ever after. You'd still call dear old Dad from time to time to ask for coaching advice and encouragement.
Jackson, my son, my boy, my buddy. Your mother even let me give you the name Marshall, after my beloved alma mater Marshall University in Huntington, West Virginia. I thought for sure that you would be here. Every dad needs a son. My dad had three.
Intelligent, happy, having your mother's great spirit. Early on you would show the charisma that would make people love you. A conscientious student, a little shy with the girls, bat a leader among the boys, you could be anything you wanted to be.
Like my mother dedicated me, I gave you over to the Lord as an infant. You were to be someone special with a high calling in life. An architect, a political leader, a professor… a preacher: Strong in body, strong in mind, strong in love; everything your mother and I prayed you would be.
You would choose Jesus over the temptations of the world. You would set out not to make a living but to make a difference. The world would be blessed because of you. A man of grace; a man of mercy; a man of integrity. "'Special"' would not be sufficient enough to describe you.
Yet, alas my dear children, my words are in vain. God chose to take you from us while you were still inside your precious mother. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21). I don't know why we had to lose you. Even the doctors were baffled. I just remember how happy your mother was each time she realized you were forming inside her. It was a happiness that only the birth of a child can bring.
Children, your mother and I love you, and we miss you terribly. Our hearts still grieve. Nothing fills the void you left behind. However, I do know that someday soon we will be with you in the paradise of God's glory. There will be no more tears or grieving or sadness. We will be together for eternity, and that is where I confidently put my hope and trust.
Love, Dad
PS
Though this "letter" is but a dream in my mind of what could have been I believe it has been healthy for me to write it. I did leave out the bad stuff-like changing diapers or the teen rebellious years, but, hey, no one wants the bad details in their dreams, right? Also, as a born-again Christian, I believe that life starts at conception. Therefore, these unborn are little souls which I believe immediately enter the Kingdom of Heaven upon death whether by miscarriage or even a hideous abortion.
