Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Her Eyes

This is how I will always remember Mia: face turned towards Derrick's or mine, eyes intently trained on us to listen for our voice.  Every evening as I cooked dinner, I would set her at my feet in a bright green bouncy seat that was also used by her brothers.  Each time I looked over at her, her neck was outstretched and her head would be quickly swiveling to keep track of my every move.  Ever since the day she was born, she watched us intently.

Mia was born during the busiest time of the cucumber season.  Actually, she was born on Easter Sunday this year; the next day was the peak of our production.  This means that six days-a-week Derrick was working long, action-packed days.  We enjoyed every time Daddy came in for coffee or for lunch.  On this particular day, I had just finished feeding Mia and set her in his arms during coffee time.  Derrick's mind was still in "work mode", but he couldn't help but bond with his darling daughter when I laid her in his arms.
When I think of my pregnancy, her birth, and her life, the words that describe our time with Mia are "too good".  As Derrick and I talked the night before she died, we had just laid Mia down to sleep in her bassinet and checked on both our sleeping boys.  I said to him through grateful tears, "You know, Sweetheart, God has been too good to us."  And He has.


  1. Dearest Ruth,
    These are both amazing photos you have taken. And your writing beautifully expresses the tenderness of your heart and spirit. We received your special package last night when we returned from the Des Moines hospital. Thank you for these treasures. We love you.

  2. Yes, I remember the first time I held her she was so alert and bright eyed. And again, when you brought her to our garage sale I remember commenting to my mom about how observant she was of her surroundings. What great pictures you have to show it! Makes my heart ache to see them.

  3. I can't read your posts without crying. You write so clearly and yet I can't imagine how you feel and what you're really going through. Thanks for sharing with us how you feel and about Mia. Thanks for telling us what we can do and say that would be encouraging to you. We love you and want to say and do things that are good.

    And thanks for, among so many other emotional things you have going on, knowing that when we do say things that hurt or aren't helpful, that they are coming from a place of love and care.

    We don't forget. We don't. We love you and even though we didn't meet Mia, we love her.

    And like you said to us the night she was in the hospital: Hug your kids a bit longer.