Dear Santa,

I only want one present this year

because we are making blankets

for babies who die in the hospital.

Love, Garrett

It made me cry when I first read it. Xander's is similar, only more ariculate. Eleanor spelled out "baby" and "love" and I thought it was perfect. Now it makes my heart break open and spill out with emotion and makes it hard to breathe because my children are so precious to me and so compassionate and the emotions I am feeling right now are so hard to describe.

But, let me start at the beginning.

Jason and I decided that this year would be different. We are always very careful about what we spend for Christmas and have never gone overboard. Last year, it seemed, that there were too many presents. Looking back, it wasn't extravagant, but something didn't sit right with me. We try and teach our children about giving and receiving, the less fortunate and everything that Christmas and the gospel entails. They respond and are always happy to do the service we choose for the season or throughout the year.

But, we decided to be different. We decided to focus outside ourselves and our family this Christmas. I looked into several different options for service. It's hard to find a service project that a one year old and an eleven year old can do at the same time. It's hard to work around nap time and my health. I called several places, but didn't feel that any of them were the one we needed to do.

I began reflecting on things that have really touched my heart at Christmas. I pondered on events that have shaped my life and made me analyze the depths of my soul. It went on for weeks. I wanted something we could do all year, something that would make us appreciate our family, something the children could look back and remember how we made a difference. I happened upon it one day. I found http://www.greysonsgift.blogspot.com/.

I knew it was what we were going to do.

Making blankets for babies who are stillborn or who only live minutes or hours. Blankets for moms and dads who hold their baby for the first and last time on the same day. It made me cry. It made my heart full. It made my day.

When I told Jason about my idea, I started to choke up. When we talked to the children about it, I started to cry. I knew it was the perfect service project, because every time I talk about it, I am touched emotionally.

We told the children to think of one present they would like for Christmas. We would write our letters to Santa and let him know that he should only one present and that we would spend the rest of the money on fabric. They were excited. Everyday they ask me if we are going to make the blankets. Every time they ask me, I tell them we are going to make them Christmas day and my heart sings that they are not worried about presents.

I requested the information and labels for the blankets. I went to the fabric store and bought fabric. I got choked up as I told the woman cutting the fabric what our family was doing. She gave me most of the fabric at 50% off. Then I tried calling the hospital to make contact. Dead end. I left messages. I called and was transferred to someone else. (I thought it would be nice to bring the blankets to the hospital where the children were born.) Then life got busy. Thanksgiving came. Garrett asked me on Thanksgiving if we were going to start on the blankets. I, of course, reminded him we were waiting for Christmas.

On Monday I called my sister, Eliza, on the way to carpool. Just to chat, just to see how things were going. She told me about her sister-in-law who was in the hospital as we spoke. The day before they couldn't find a heartbeat. She was having to deliver her baby, due in a week and she would be stillborn. My heart skipped a beat. My breath became short. My mind raced. Tears sprang to my eyes. Wasn't this the reason we were making blankets for Christmas?

So, our first blanket would be for someone we knew. Someone we had met. Someone who would hold their baby for the first and last time on the same day and we knew them. I said a silent prayer for their family. I went downstairs and looked at the fabric. I chose the fabric I would have chosen if it were my baby girl.

I pulled it out and looked at it. I touched the fabric. It was so soft. I thought of this little baby whose presence had changed this family forever and ours...

I put my fingers on it and it was so soft...so very soft.

As I began making the blanket, it was a very touching experience. I thought of all the mothers who throughout the years have lost children. From the pioneer women who had to bury their babies on the plains to the family that was saying good-bye that very minute.

With each stitch I prayed for the healing to begin...

As I sewed in the label, I was struck by the words... "from one mother to another" and I wanted them to know that this mother was aching for their loss. I have not lost a child to death, but I still ache. I ache for their loss. The mother who started this program does know the ache and I hope the label will convey that. I hope they will feel the healing that I prayed for with each stitch I sewed. I don't claim to be a great seamstress, but somehow that doesn't matter this time.

The final cut was hard...like having to say good-bye for the last time. I feel like the words I am using are not adequate in describing the experience. They somehow seem ineffective in helping to convey the experience. I guess I never thought I would be so profoundly touched by this....

The good news is that I called the hospital by our house after I made the blanket. I said a silent prayer that I would be successful.

I was.

Nicole, the managing nurse at the hospital told me that the next morning they were having a meeting for the bereavement committee. I gave her the blog address and explained what we were doing. She told me she would get back to me and let me know.

She called today and they are thrilled to take our blankets. They give the families memory boxes and they will wrap the baby in the blanket and then give it to them afterwards. They have a need for about 50 blankets a year. Once again, I cried. My breath was short and my mind raced. Fifty blankets! How can fifty families endure this loss every year? The impact of all this was really hitting home.

This Christmas my children may not understand the full impact of their work. But we are going to make a difference this Christmas. I am pretty sure one present will be plenty. My children are so good and they understand. They understand better than I do, I am sure.

It is with mixed emotions that
I will be sending this blanket off tomorrow. Sorrow for the loss this family is enduring, yet joy in knowing the difference it will make. Little Mariah Grace has touched our lives more profoundly than we ever thought possible. I can't help but think that she has already fufilled her purpose on earth!

The next time one of the children ask if we can start on the blankets, I will say "yes" because I now know how important those blankets are....