Ella Grace

Dear Ella Grace,

Some words are better left unsaid, while some press against our hearts until they’re shared. I give you my words with so much love, and I hope they wrap around you like a hug.

It was a crowded day at the ballpark, and you caught my eye – those curls, that sweet face – you were all I could see. Our paths were so close to colliding and when they didn’t, the weight of my grief fell upon me.

I spent the next couple of hours thinking of you while a baseball game was played before me. When we left the park, my husband, sons, and I went to dinner at Maria’s, which was completely empty except for one family: yours. We were seated in a booth behind you. I wept as I told my husband about you and who you reminded me of. It was no coincidence that we were both at that restaurant, I told him, and I knew I couldn’t let the moment pass by.

When your family stood to leave, I sparked a delicate conversation with your sweet mother. I asked her about a syndrome, then I held up my phone to show her a picture – the reason for my inquiry. Ella Grace, you precious girl, have a syndrome that is nearly identical to that of my son, Max. When Max was born, we were told he was 1 in 30 million. Crossing paths with you, recognizing features, felt like nothing short of a miracle.

The bond between our families was instant. The immediate rush of love, empathy, trust, gratitude – all so deep and genuine. As your mom and I wrote to each other later that evening, I confessed that I wanted to hold you so badly, that when I saw you at the park it took all I had not to scoop you into my arms and bury my face in your beautiful curls. Your mom, ever so gracious, gave me permission to do so whenever I want.

Weeks later I sat in the middle of a store, flipping through children’s books. At the sound of little feet on worn hardwoods, I lifted my head to find the greatest surprise…you. You walked straight to me and climbed onto my lap. I fought off my quivering chin and smiled as we read a book together. I hugged you over and over, touched your sweet curls, and silently thanked you for letting me do so.

And again, just weeks later, I felt a presence nearing as I spoke with a restaurant hostess. I turned around and there you were - by complete surprise- running toward me.

There’s a song I love called “The Goodness of God.” When I’m struggling, it’s hard to trust every word, but the lyrics tug at me…Your goodness is running after me…I sing those words and I think of you. I think of Max, I think of God, and I think of life’s curiosities. The pain of losing Max has not left me, but neither has God, and now I’ve met you, a little angel who instantly took residence in my heart. You were around before I ever realized it, living a bright, precious life, but now our paths have intersected, and I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve shared. Our encounters are a gift, so much goodness, rushing at me every time I look up and find you.

While I absolutely adore you for who you are, I hope it’s okay to also adore you for who you remind me of. I can give you no better compliment than to compare you to my Max. My curly-headed boy was a beacon of happiness, a triumphant lover of music and people, whose light continues to shine. What I’d give to see you two run around that ballpark together.

Ella Grace, I have loved you from the moment I spotted you. A wonderful life lay before you and, now that I’m in your world, I will cherish every glimpse I get.