I chose to name my son Caleb after reflecting on the profound imagery the name conjured up. Picture a majestic vessel, crafted with care from resilient wood, carrying pairs of every animal on a journey toward a renewed world. It symbolizes hope and the promise of new beginnings, echoing my lifelong connection to the ocean’s embrace. I envisioned Caleb standing at the helm, reaching out to embrace the dual symbols of harmony—a dove and the olive branch it carried. Naming my son Caleb felt like a tribute to divine choice; who wouldn’t want to honor such a significant figure?
The Day Caleb Entered Our Lives
On the day Caleb entered our lives, the sun broke through after what felt like weeks of rain. Born in Oregon, he sported a head of soft, golden hair and had a calm, inquisitive expression. He was the first child to look back at me with eyes that mirrored my own—an enchanting shade of blue. His joyful older sister, Lily, who was seven, cradled him in her arms, while his capable four-year-old sister, Mia, watched with delight. His little brother, Eli, only three, was utterly mesmerized by every sound Caleb made. We named him Caleb James, honoring his father’s middle name, and added our last name, Caleb James Moore, to complete the picture. Some joked about calling him “Caleb Moore,” but little did they know the depth of our affection.
A Bittersweet Goodbye
Tragedy, however, soon cast a shadow over our joy, as Caleb was not with us for long. At his funeral, just 15 months later, I shared these words: “Caleb was a gift, ours for a fleeting yet beautiful weekend. He arrived on a Friday night and was the answer to our prayers early Saturday morning as the world lay quietly asleep. We felt his wonder before dawn, marveling at his presence while others only dreamed of such miracles. Throughout the day, he became part of us; we delighted in his little quirks, from the way he crawled to how he laughed when we played. By Saturday night, he had woven himself into our very beings. He had eight tiny teeth and a smile that lit up the room. He celebrated his first steps with claps of pride, expressed his desires with fervor, and enjoyed flipping through books.
As Sunday dawned, we envisioned a future together—a family of six. Caleb was as essential to our lives as the air we breathed. We cherished the moments we shared, grateful for the beauty he brought us. But by Sunday afternoon, he was gone, leaving us with aching hearts and memories that felt bittersweet. He arrived last but departed first, leading us into a journey of understanding beyond what we could fathom. We taught him what we could, but he imparted lessons that words could never capture. We will always be thankful for the time we had with him and long for that perfect Sunday morning once more.”
Growing Through Grief
Fast forward twelve years, and our family had grown with the addition of two more children, living in sunny Costa Rica. Dropping Lily off at college was supposed to be a challenging moment for us, her parents. Yet, after having left Caleb’s tiny body in a funeral home and visiting his resting place, saying goodbye to anyone else felt a bit easier. I had also started to write about Caleb and the subsequent loss of his brother, Evan. Evan, whose name means “Caleb’s dove,” departed from us during his stillbirth, leaving us with outstretched arms and his name lingering in our hearts—Evan Matthew Moore. For three years, I attempted to capture the essence of my sons, whose time with us was brief but impactful. Often, I would glance up from my writing and expect to see them toddling toward me, filling my world with their joy.
Memories and Connections
During a spring visit from friends and their three sons, the eldest—Ben—was on the autism spectrum. Ben’s parents were Caleb’s Godparents. Even though it had been years since he last saw Caleb, he spent the week calling Micah and our youngest, Isaac, by Caleb’s name. Each time I heard “Caleb,” it was music to my ears, and my sons didn’t mind being associated with the name at all. As someone who loves words, naming my children was a joyful process, yet one of the things I miss most about my sons is hearing their names spoken. At the end of the week, I shared with Caleb’s Godfather how wonderful it was to hear Caleb’s name so often. He sighed in relief, saying, “I thought that would be hard for you!” This highlighted how often people misunderstand the grieving process.
A few days later, I received a heartfelt digital story from a family member titled “The Things That Matter.” In the brief three minutes she had to share her life’s essential moments, she mentioned how Caleb had taught her daughter to climb stairs before he left his playmate behind. Hearing Caleb’s name once again felt like a precious gift.
Carrying Their Names Forward
Even now, years after their passing, I think of my sons every moment of my life. I will carry their names with me to the end. When others hesitate to utter their names, it makes me wonder if they have been forgotten. Each morning, I long to shout my sons’ names to the Universe: “Caleb!” “Evan!” For parents like me, these are the moments that truly matter.
Resources for Parenting and Support
To explore more about home insemination and parenting, check out resources like March of Dimes for guidance on your pregnancy journey, or learn about at-home insemination kits for a more personal approach to family planning. You can also find support and information at Make A Mom, a trusted source on this topic.
Conclusion
In summary, the journey of naming and cherishing our children is a profound experience that shapes our lives, especially for those who have faced loss. Each name carries memories that linger long after they’ve departed, reminding us of the love and lessons shared.
Keyphrase: grief and naming children
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