I remember-

I could probably look this up before I write this post, but I'm not sure of the history of Memorial Day or exactly why it's celebrated. But I do know that in our family, from this Memorial Day on, we will celebrate the precious life of our sweet baby Scotlin.

I remember a year ago when I was only (almost) 3 months pregnant with him. I hadn't yet felt him move, but I knew he was there. I had pictures of him and I had had the opportunity to hear his little heart beating 160 BPM.

I remember the doctor saying, "at this point in your pregnancy you have less than a 3% chance of miscarriage. I remember thinking that was a silly thing to say to a pregnant woman; who would ever want to hear their chances of having their pregnancy abort itself.

I remember at my 15 week mark I had felt Scotlin move. [It was a magical experience that I will never EVER take for granted. Besides that awful November day when I wanted nothing in the world more than to feel him move, I know the pain that comes to those who will never, in this life, have the opportunity to bear their own children.]

I remember at my 17 week mark, he was kicking hard enough that Evan was able to feel him move too. My pregnancy progressed perfectly and without too much complaint. I had the typical discomforts but I choose not to dwell on those.

I remember taking baths to relax and Scotlin would do somersaults and kick like nobody's business. I like to think back on those times and say, that because he moved so much when mommy was in the bath, that he liked to take baths too.

I remember singing to my baby and he would stop and listen. I know my little boy heard my voice and I know he knew it was his mommy singing to him.

I remember when he got strong enough that when he'd kick it would hurt me. Without fail, Evan would touch my belly and tell Scotlin to settle down and he'd do it. He is a very obedient little boy.

I remember praying that I'd be a good mom and that I'd be able to love this baby enough and that he'd never doubt I loved him.

I remember the love I felt when I held him in my arms for the first time. No sadness, and no circumstance could have changed that love. I was a simple feeling. I was holding an angel and I knew my Savior was holding me.

While some may see Memorial Day as a day to remember the dead, I will forever see it as a day to remember the life of my precious son who was too valiant, too strong, too noble and too pure to come to this world. He learned everything he needed to know and had all the experience that was required of him while he was growing inside of me. For this, I will be grateful and for my Savior, I will ever be thankful; it's because of him that I get to have my son for all of eternity. Rest well, Prince. I love you forever!