Letters To Elijah: Entry 9

August 14, 2018

By Sanda Rathamone


You keep me steady, even when I'm falling.
"Dear Elijah,

I still cannot believe that you're gone. It is now twenty-six months since you have quietly slipped away from me. Sometimes, I question if you were real, was I ever really pregnant with you? Thinking about it now feels more like it was all a dream... and it hurts.

It hurts to feel like you were just a dream, when all I hope for is that you are real and here and alive. 

As I gaze at all of the photos of your daddy and I, I wonder how you would look like today. I hope that you would have looked like the perfect combination of us, that you would have exactly 50/50 of me and your daddy. Because it would be fair that way.

I want things to be fair, equal.

But being without you makes everything about life so unfair. 

Why do I have to live without you? 

Why couldn't I keep you? 

Why does everyone else get to keep their babies and not me? 

This isn't fair and I will keep saying this. It's not fair because losing you hurts me every day and I don't know how to stop the pain. Why do I have to carry all of this pain?

I don't know why, but I have this image in my mind of me cradling your head in my hands. I want to cradle your head in a way that shows how proud I am of my most perfect creation, which is you. You, by far, are the most perfect and beautiful thing I have ever created in my life. Although, that is most likely a lie because I didn't make you all on my own. I had the help of your daddy and most of all, of God.

I grieve so hard because I will never see our most precious creation come alive and grow. Why did you have to be born un-animated, eerily silent, and frighteningly still? I ask that question every day. 

When I gave birth to you, seeing you in your lifeless form was so unnatural, yet, amazing. But your death is still far too soon for me. I still can't handle it, I can't accept it, and I won't. Because it's not fair!

The other day, your daddy and I was eating in the kitchen and he said that Jazmine was you. He said that you were reborn and that Jazmine is your reincarnation. I wanted to scream. I refuse to believe that you left me and decided to be born from his sister's womb. That's cruel. And I refuse to believe that you would do that to me when I have painfully prayed for so long for you.

I love Jazmine, but I refuse to see you in her. You are not her because I know you. I've known you since I've dreamed about you. You are not her because she is not my son, you are. She is not my child, you are.

But I didn't scream that day. I was silently fuming. I was silent, like you. Instead, my heart was screaming out for you.

I start school again next week. I'm nervous. Taking a three month break from school wasn't as refreshing or restful as I had hoped. So many things have happened over the summer break, but the one thing that I hoped would happen, didn't. I'm disappointed.

Is it because I'm too angry? Too sad? Too hopeful? Am I not putting in enough faith in God as I should? 

I think and dream of all of these babies, but will I ever get to touch them? Will I ever get to hold, carry, and cradle them?

Sometimes, this idea visits me: when I am done with school next year, it will lead me to the babies I have wanted and prayed for. Maybe I should just focus more on building a better life, so that I can welcome my babies home.

I also believe that you are the reason why I decided to go to this school. I know it was you because on that very first day of orientation, your butterfly appeared before I got to school and again on my way home.

You are the reason why everything about that school felt so aligned and perfect for me. I just got in my own way the first time around. But I know that you were there helping me get through it and will again help me on my first day back next week. I know that you will be there with me because I know that you are always near. I feel you near all of the time, even when I'm angry and feel like the world is so unfair.

I remember my first day there. There were at least forty or fifty people in the classroom. Among them were students, mentors, observers, and staff from other campuses. When it was my turn to talk about myself, I was unsure to talk about you. Some of them shared things about their kids, so why couldn't I share you, too?

I will never regret telling them about you, about how you are the reason why I have changed my direction in life, and why you are my guide and inspiration. I decided to become a healer because of you. Because losing you broke my heart, so that I could learn how to heal it. So that I could learn how to heal others.

I will never forget how sharing you with these strangers who were to become my peers, made an impact in their hearts. I will never forget that I inspired this woman who wanted to share a personal aspect about her life and a life struggle, but didn't. Because I decided to talk about you, she felt comforted in knowing that someone else was brave to do what she had wanted to do.

I will never forget how another woman who sat next to me, told me that she wanted to cry and said that she was touched by my loss.

I will never forget how days after my first day, I sat next to a peer, who told me that she was amazed by my strength.

When your daddy thought it was appalling that I would share things about you on my first day, I didn't care. He thought that sharing you so early would be pointless because people would forget anyway. You are never "too personal" to share with the world. You are my son. You are the reason why I continue to live every day. You are the reason why I seek the light and a way out. You are my motivation and you are a huge part of my every day life.

I share you with the world because I'm not afraid to. Because I'm not afraid to show the world how much I love you and how much it hurts to live life without you.

Thank you for all of the beautiful, wonderful reasons. I have loved you since I knew you were inside of me. I know you because you were inside of me. And I love you because it is my duty to love you.

Love, Mommy."

Elijah Rathamone-Saeteurn 
Born Thursday, June 16, 2016 
6:51 a.m. 9.9 oz and 10 in 
Due October 30, 2016 

To read previous Letters To Elijah, click here.


With love,








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