Beautiful boy

Baby Jonah died yesterday.

(Jonah and his parents in the hospital, just after his birth)

I spent 3 days in California with my brothers and sisters and parents and nieces and nephews. All of us there got to hold him and kiss his little face.

I was intrigued to see how much like any other newborn Jonah was. He had many of the same reflexes. Most of his disabilities were internal, so he really didn't look that different. He didn't like getting his diaper changed. He cried when he was hungry. He couldn't see or hear, but he responded to his parents' soothing touch.

When my sister Phoebe called last night to let us know that Jonah had finally died, it was strange to jump back and forth between that intensely personal and spiritual world of Harry and Dawn's home in California, and the loud and chaotic world of kids shrieking and climbing all over me on my couch in Virginia. I told Theo and Ida that Jonah had died and reminded them that God had answered our prayers--his mom and dad had gotten to hold him. His brothers and sisters had gotten to hold him. Several of his cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents had gotten to hold him. Even I had gotten to hold him! Because my kids are bent on pulling me up out of sadness, Theo reminded me, "Now Jesus and Heavenly Father get to hold him." At some point, a "believer" has to decide whether his beliefs are true. So when Theo said that to me, I had to sit and ask myself out loud. Is it true? And the immediate answer--it is. Jonah had a purpose. He came to earth to receive a body and live his life. And he did.

I love what Katie's mom Pam said: "Jonah is a special blessing to all of us. He makes us appreciate what we have and know that there is something special about each moment spent here with our families." I love my family and am touched by the examples of loving and caring motherhood and fatherhood that Harry and Dawn are to me. I know they are so sad, but they are also so strong and good. Their home has been a special place to be lately. Jonah's first several days at home were pretty good (relatively speaking) though by the end, everyone was ready for him to go, as much as anyone could be in this situation. Every night his family sang "Happy Birthday" to him and blew out candles on a birthday cake (or brownies, or donuts). Every morning before school his brothers and sisters kissed him goodbye and then hello again every afternoon. In family prayer one night his sister Eve asked "that when Jonah dies we can be sad, but not too sad." His mom and dad rarely left his side. Every minute of his life somebody was holding him, dressing him, feeding him or changing him. I can't imagine that any baby has ever been so intensely, so thoroughly loved.

-Eliza