The Shoes You Never Got to Wear

I wish I had more to remember you by. But all I have is a pair of shoes.

They were your shoes.

I bought them for you.

I still remember buying them and placing them on top of the cookie cake that I gave to your daddy to surprise him.

I have a video of his reaction.

I kept your shoes in my closet for over a year after you left. They were the only physical reminder of you that I had. But I couldn’t pull them out.

I like to think about your little toes and precious fingers. Would your sweet feet even have worn those shoes? Or would we have bought you pretty sparkle shoes instead? I like to think that you would have worn pink and not blue.

We used those shoes for pictures when I was pregnant with your little brother. I hope you don’t mind. Your shoes make those pictures an extra bit of special.

I also hope you don’t mind that I let your little brother wear your shoes a couple of times before tucking them back away, in my closet.

When I think of you, I am overcome with love and hope. But also with grief and heartbreak.

Grief for that young mom 5 years ago, who knew what was coming but who was praying that it wouldn’t. Who felt so completely alone in her pain. Whose arms were left empty.
I grieve for her fear as she wasn’t sure what to expect. For her challenge to pull through the pain and continue to be a mom to her other babies.

I grieve for the moms of many other babies born into Heaven. Some who know this heartbreak all too well. All too often. Just so much pain filling the holes in the hearts of so many mommas.

But I also have hope and peace. Peace in knowing that even though I didn’t get to tickle your sweet feet as I put your shoes on, I have precious loved ones who are with you and I’m sure tickle your feet for me.

I have peace in knowing that even though I didn’t get to hold you on my own lap, you were born to sit on the lap of Jesus.

I know there is no need for shoes where you are. You are dancing, barefoot, with the King.

So while you are dancing, I’ll be here. Holding your shoes and loving you still.

One thought on “The Shoes You Never Got to Wear

  1. Nan says:

    So precious Ashley. Thanks for the beautiful way you share your heart. I have just been grieving a Christmas Day loss many years ago, and thinking of someday getting to see our sweet baby.
    Your words bless, sweet friend.

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