Your older brother, Micah, named you when you were just a glow in my belly.
"Hi Iz!" he said softly, his hand on my hips, his mouth pressed to my stomach. He planted a kiss near my belly button and then scampered away.
"I'm going to name the baby Iz." He announced, 5 minutes after we told our boys they were going to be big brothers again on December 20th. "I want a baby sister. If it's a boy, I'm going to fuss."
I laughed, reminding him that the baby might not be a girl, and inwardly thinking that I didn't really like the name "Izzy."
But that was the only name you got. It was a sweet name, and full of love and expectation from the big brother you will never know on this side of heaven.
Sweet baby. You left us only a few weeks after we knew you were there. On January 4th, we found out that your soul had slipped away.
We miss you, your mommy especially. Christmas was such a time of hope. I felt like Mary, expecting a child, however small, at such a magical time of year.
Your daddy and I kept looking at each other with wide eyes, saying in hollowed, hallowed tones, "We're going to have FOUR kids. Holy crap."
And we still have four. But not here on earth.
We wonder why this happened, why you won't be joining our family here on earth. I told your big brother Benji that Mommy was very sad that the baby died.
"But Mommy, we still have Silas!" he said.
And that made me smile.
I have three little boys to hold in my arms and one little one to hold in my heart.
We didn't get to know you but your big brother named you.
We miss you, sweet Iz.