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Morris,

A whole season has passed since the last time I wrote you.  We enjoyed a beautiful, but wet summer.  Your brother and sister have grown tremendously in the last several months.  They are capable of full conversations now, and their personalities are really beginning to come through. Griffin loves cars and "Papaw's trucks", and he's full of adventure and always on the go.  Baylor gravitates towards caring for her babies and pets, and she is fiercely independent.  They are the best of friends.

We are moving to a new house next month.  Daddy and I decided a few months ago that we were ready for more space and a yard where Baylor, Griffin and Izzy could play and run.  Our house sold very quickly, and although I panicked about it, we found a beautiful home that we know will be perfect for us. In the midst of packing up this house and planning for the new house, you are heavily on my mind. 

We really haven't announced that we've bought a new house to many people.  I guess I haven't wanted to jinx it since we are still waiting on home inspections and other items to wrap up.  The topic came up with a fellow loss mom through Facebook chat one night several weeks ago though.  I had shared the real estate posting of our house earlier that night.  This friend messaged me, laughing about how she got chocked up seeing my post and how she was feeling emotional about a house that she had no connection to at all thinking about the experiences we've had and the memories we've made here. She reminisced about her experience of finding a new home for her growing family years ago and the bittersweetness of it after loss.

I've known she was right about the bittersweetness.  Leaving this home means means leaving the home where I carried you for 8 months, and it means leaving the home where I have grieved you for three and a half years.

This morning was the first time I realized though what I'm moving on to...a home that will never physically house you.  In the new house, there is a bedroom for Mommy and Daddy, one for Baylor and one for Griffin.  In buying what we hope is our forever home, we planned for the size our family is today, not the size it should be.  It's impossible to not shed tears over a realization like that one.

And yet, you are forever part of our family, which means you will forever be part of our home no matter where that home is.  Our memories from this house will come along with us to the next house, as will treasured items and trinkets and pictures.  I know that you will always find a way to be part of the love and laughter that fills our earthly home, and you'll be our connection to the home that is being built for us in Heaven.

Home is where your heart is, and part of my heart is always with you.

Love,

Mommy