Letter From Daddy

January 3, 2008

Dear Scott,

It has been almost a week since you were born. This has given me plenty of time to think about what I want to say to you today.

Even though your mother and I decided not to find out your gender, I knew all along that you were a little boy. I might have told others that I thought you’d be a girl, but I knew in my heart that I was going to have another boy to raise into a future Priesthood holder. It is kind of strange how a parent can kind of instinctively know something about a child they’ve never met before.

When I came to the full realization that you might not make it past birth, I prayed for a very long time that a miracle might happen, that you might be born and survive and grow up with us. When this didn’t happen, I was devastated and I cried for a while in your mother’s lap just before she gave birth to you. I didn’t fully understand why a miracle couldn’t happen. It broke my heart that I would never get the chance to give you a father’s blessing. I would never be able to teach you how to play ball. I would never get the chance to take you to a football game. I would never see you grow up and gain a testimony and receive the Priesthood and serve a mission. Why wouldn’t the Lord allow this miracle to happen?

But miracles did happen, Scott. My testimony has grown immensely since that night in the hospital. I have felt of our Savior’s love. He atoned not only for our sins, but for our emotional pains and sorrows as well. He knows what we are going through, and He is there to comfort us. Is there any greater miracle than the Atonement? Through this supreme act of selfless love, our Savior also redeemed little children and made them perfect in Him. I wonder if perhaps you have met Christ and hugged him. If so, I would count you as the luckiest little boy I know.

I want you to know how very much I love you and miss you. I hope and pray that right now you are in the comforting arms of angels. I hope that you have met your ancestors, some of which you were named after. I hope that you will always be with us, watching over us and waiting for us in heaven. I pray with all my heart that I can live my life worthily enough to see you again, to hold you again. I hope to someday crawl around on the floor with you, to laugh with you, to tickle you, to throw you into the air and catch you, to go on campouts with you, to watch you snuggle your mom. The more that I think about what I am missing, the more I cling to my testimony and my faith that your day will come.

I will never forget that night when you were born. I don’t think that a day will ever pass that I won’t think of you at least once, and pray in my heart that I can be with you again. I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you.

Love,
Dad.