I’ve put this off for over a week. I really don’t want to be transparent, or even really have to ponder this too deeply. But my baby made me brave from start to finish. By the grace of God, all of my babies have done that for me. I have no idea what I am about to type or how I am going to try to shuffle through the various emotions that I’ve had over the past week or more. However, I think it’s worth trying to communicate because I know that I am not alone in this, and once again if anyone can find some strength from my process then I’ll try to share as honestly as I can. To God be the glory!
Our baby isn’t here.
July 25, 2018 was the expected due date. I just knew she would come early like her big sister, but I hoped maybe not quite as early. But it would’ve been really fun if she would’ve come that day because it’s the day before my Mom’s birthday, and I adore my Mom. What a fun way to celebrate for years to come! July 25th came and went, and that baby would never come because she went to Heaven in January. That’s a hard reality regardless of the fact that I now am carrying another baby that’s thankfully healthy and has surpassed the life of my baby in Heaven. Every single day since January 16, 2018 I have missed and longed for that sweet baby in Heaven though. Emotions are less severe, but the ache is still the same. I suppose it always will be that way. July 25th will never pass by as it has before.
That week though my family was at the beach all together, so we chose to celebrate our sweet baby on a beautiful day a couple days prior. We bought a single cupcake and made a picnic on the beach. We talked about the baby, the three of us, and it felt like we were all together enjoying the sun, sugar, and the waves. I am so grateful for that moment, and hope we continue this little tradition of celebrating our angelic family member.
When July 25th came I was a bit weird. I teared up about most every little thing. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to press through, but mostly I just wanted the day to end. I survived it, the day that didn’t go according to my plan. The truth is that no day is about my plan, is it? That’s a tough pill to swallow, and even harder to surrender to the reality of daily.
Days later I reflected on how this life is a dance of joy and sorrow, celebration and grief, exactly. It’s really beautiful that way, and it’s hard too. But I have seen the Lord through this season, and He has carried me through it all, just as I carried my baby for 13 weeks. Selah.