Suddenly, I Missed You

I was lifting weights today-yes, at the gym.

Stick with me here.

Pandora was blasting music into my eardrums as I danced along in my head. Music can take you places and I need to be taken anywhere but the treadmill to be inspired.

As the melody changed, the tunes transported me back to a mundane moment when you rested in the soft angle of my arms. In an instant, I could feel the heaviness of your infant frame. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath…but the oxygen couldn’t strong-arm the entitled emotions.

Suddenly, right there on that musty steel bench, I missed you.



I knew there was no fighting this time, so I briskly walked back to the locker room and found a changing stall. Locking the door behind me, I crumbled to the floor as the relentless pursuit of grief rushed in. It had found me.

Most conversations about what we do in this life bring your tiny face to the front of my mind as I run through our times together. But there’s not really space to sit in the sorrow because there are other things to do, other places to go and other people to consume what I have to hand out.

But sometimes…sometimes I let it rage.

I let the sadness sit down. I face the frustrations I felt when you were mine. I wonder if I could have done something else to keep you with me. I hope you still hear my voice in your vault of early moments when I would sing over you and pull you close.

I imagine you now-in the arms of another mother-and I pray you feel loved and safe and known.

Remember when people would say to me, your mama, how hard it must be to love you and let you go? You would look up at me with that dimpled grin and our eyes would fix on each other. There we were-attached. I would dream about your future with us, letting myself get swept away, years from here. My frames are filled with your face and in my fantasy, I imagine you’re still very much my own.

I know we will never be what we were and when the reality of that rests on my chest, the pressure is paralyzing.

I miss you. Sometimes its just a peaceful, present sorrow…but today its a sudden force that must be free to surge, then recede when it’s ready.

Another baby needs me now. And you’re gone forever.

I’m aching for you today. And the pain is raw and so very real.

I just need you to know that you’re still wanted and loved.

And that suddenly, I missed you.


  1. matteo4 | 13th Apr 16

    This is so raw and beautiful. Do you ever hope to adopt your foster babies?

    • Kristy | 13th Apr 16

      Thank you. We always hope for what’s best for them. We aren’t opposed to adoption someday-it’s just dependent on the case

  2. Foster mom | 13th Apr 16

    I needed to read this so very much right now as I am trying (not so successfully) to move forward after having to say good by to my first placement. Just as I start to feel I can breath and move forward it hits in a huge sunami wave and I feel like I will drown in the pain. I know it is part of the foster process, but nothing can fully prepare you for just how deep it hurts 🙁

    • Kristy | 13th Apr 16

      Praying over you today, mama

    • Kristy | 13th Apr 16

      You’re so right. Nothing can prepare us. Thank you for saying yes.

  3. Vickie | 24th Apr 16

    Thank you for saying so eloquently what’s been on my heart for months. You’re post immediately brought me to tears as I am constantly battling the storms. My first peanut left in November after arriving from the hospital and departing a week after his birthday. I’m still reeling in the pain. There are days I wonder if it’ll ever go away but days I hope it doesn’t as reminder of my Love for him. This is definitely not easy but if not me then who?

    • Kristy | 25th Apr 16

      Vickie-I am praying over you now!
      praying for God’s continued presence and comfort. I know your ache and it’s real and raw and so necessary.
      Keep doing the good work.

  4. framed backpacks | 9th Jun 16

    I got what you mean,saved to fav, very nice website.

  5. Julie | 30th Jan 17

    Thank you. As I sit here holding our 3 mo fd I’m crying imagining what our life would be like without her. We don’t know how her future will enfold, but I know and trust Who holds it! I’m trying to stay present in the moment and love her while we have her…but your post, and blog, are thought provoking and such a blessing! Thank you for walking this road ahead of me and sharing your heart so beautifully.

  6. Tabitha Alexander | 22nd Apr 17

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