Elegy for Baby N

A good friend of my brother's lost his baby last night. I don't know what to say to the parents, (for the purposes of this post I will simply call them ND, NM, and BabyN). The only think to say is that Baby N is in a far better place and that my prayers are with them.

Baby N was only with us for six short months. He was born prematurely, on a cold December night, but was due in March. He spent his brief life in the hospital and in the NICU. Everyday, his mother, like all mothers, was with him. She shared him with us- every joy and every struggle and pictures on facebook. She walked for premature babies- not just her own, but all the other children who were in the nicu, too.  She was his biggest cheerleader and greatest admirer. His father was too.  Now this family, has lost its baby. I don't know what to say.

 I don't know what to say to my brother- who is scrambling to get work done to be at his best friend's side during this horrible time. (ND is my brother's best friend and has been for years.) I don't know what to say to NM, except that she will always be a mother, thank her for sharing this journey with us, and give thanks that BabyN is now whole and free in that place "where he will walk and not faint, run and not be weary." I can pray and I can write and so that is what I will do.

So, dearest boy, this poem is for you:

You came into this world on a cold night
refusing to wait any longer to see the light or hear the keys on your father's calculator, you couldn't wait to see the parents you were given.
On that night, you knitted together a family and you, though, you were fragile and young began your own fight to live.
You charmed nurses with your smile.
Your mother was proud of her little boy and with every picture she showed it. Soon, you were charming the rest of us from your cradle in the hospital. Doctors were baffled that you were here at all- but determined and strong you fought with all you had. You proved many wrong.
But, eventually, you heard that other song, you saw those other lights,
you heard that other voice.
This voice was the one you had heard once before, the one who brought you here, the one who, like you was born on a cold winter's night.
His light was too strong, his voice so warm, and you knew that it was time for you to see him again.
You fought to the last, but went to the one who made you.
It wouldn't surprise me if you told him to keep this family together.
And now, dearest child, you are at peace.
All we can do is give thanks to God for you, and ask that you give the family you made that same peace.

Go with God and be thankful.
 .